Lyrics Wrist Work - House of Pharaohs

Wrist Work

Unavailable if there’s no checks
I do not dress to impress
My fashion sense, yeah it’s the best
Oi
All smiles
It’s like me and Dan in (?)
With the mandem chillin' round backstage
Yeah, the front get the mad hate
Know what I’ve come to realize, I’ve gone through mad change
I’m a real G, can’t tell me what I can and can’t say
Pop a zoot before I skate through the gate at Heathrow Airport
Then I just got a text from mum she said «be careful»
H-O wave, no label, we can turn up, do the money walk
Check my DNA, yeah I feel real able, if it ain’t my peak, it’s fable
Get the cards on the table
I can not leave with no fe'
If that’s your girl, why she lookin' at me?
(why she lookin'?)
Whippin' the r to the e
Been killin' shit and we still on a spree (on a spree)
Only one, you couldn’t clone me (clone me)
Taking shots I’m like Kobe (like Kobe)
Take time, do it slowly (slowly, slowly)
Running like Wile E Coyote (runnin)
We did it all on our lonelies (lonely)
I know them guys, they are phony (they're phony)
I don’t pretend to be holy (holy)
I got the back of my homie (got it down)
In the kitchen I’m workin' (workin')
Your bitch, she twerkin' (she twerkin')
All the paper, I’m yearnin' (yearnin')
(?) dispersive
Look at the wrist work (a-ooh)
Look at your bitch twerk (oo-ooh)
Versace my t-shirt (t-shirt)
She think I’m gon' miss her (miss her)
Want me the money, no fame (fame)
Want me the money, no fame (fame, yeah)
We been on top of our game (ya)
We been on top of our game (yaya)
Look at the wrist work (work)
Look at your bitch twerk (twerk)
Versace my t-shirt (t-shirt)
She think I’m gon' miss her (ya)
Want me the money, no fame (fame, yeah)
Want me the money, no fame (fame)
We been on top of our game (game)
We been on top of our game
We gotta catch up, ah, yeah
We fuck the map up, ay, yeah
I’m fuckin' her backup, ay, yeah
Two numbers, a three and a four, ay, yeah
Yawning, ha, yeah
The flow is appaling, ha, yeah
Homie back up, yeah
'Cause we been the jawbreakers
I make her heart ache
Lane, different one
Different feelin'
When I do it
No losin'
No hopin'
Niggas convinced themselves
We got a different world
Money ain’t physical
Yo, oi, listen
Don’t call my phone, cause you’re not on my radar (please don’t call)
I seen them guys over there chillin' round some traitors (chumps)
Got my niggas in the back, smoking all types of flavours (sweet)
Might run off with a pack, if it comes low, that’s takers (run off)
Funny mad man, ha ha, bare jokes no guala (Mad Men)
I got a next link there, says she wanna link me at dollar (low)
I remember back then I was the first black boy to play OIiver’s dodger
(straight facts)
And what’s a West End ting, man was poppin' off collars (true)
Ducati, Bugatti, whatever
Giuseppe Zanotti, Margiela
A hundred degrees wearing leather
Make it rain and I might change the weather
Ay, 23 jump
Some niggas know bro had to suck up a punch
Shout out to my aunts
We smokin' gelato, that shit hit the lungs
Walkin' to retain the energy
See I’m lit, so they wanna be friends with me, ooh
You couldn’t copy this recipe, ooh
That pussy taste like some jelly beans, ooh
You lookin' at me like «damn, he so rude»
Flooded my wrist, I want diamonds on tooth
Lie through your tooth, while I’m tellin' the truth
Huh, huh, pull up in coupe
Look at the wrist work
Look at your bitch twerk
Versace my t-shirt
She think I’m gon' miss her
Want me the money, no fame
Want me the money, no fame
We been on top of our game
We been on top of our game