| Alright, listen
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| Uh, alright
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| Look, look, look
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| Look busy from the start
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| Written in my heart
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| I stay busy, say nizzy, four fizzy, might spark
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| No nights arff
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| I’m grinding like I’m supposed to fam
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| Sliding from the sirens, trynna find us in their police van
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| Holding grams, trynna find the master plan
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| Talk dough and don’t phone, I won’t answer fam
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| I’m so road these labels can’t chance a man
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| I’m a no-go, the po-po are trying to shut him down
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| Fuck around, I can’t perform in my fucking town
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| It’s like they all unsure when I come around
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| Cos i’m that raw from the floors of the underground
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| And coke comes pure you can’t cut it down
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| I come from a place you won’t like to go
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| Judged by race, you might not make it home
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| Street from the gully of the gaza
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| Road come like sauna
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| These bad man you can’t come back pon the corner
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| I bleed, it must be the marijuana
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| If I see enemy, me raise the llama
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| Fuck it i’m back
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| You man are under attack
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| I want what’s mine and on my life
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| Man are running it back
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| I swallow pride, lost my mind like one of my hats
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| I’m from the dark side of London, used to running in flats
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| I’ve sold dark, white and onions, trynna rummage a stack
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| I’ve sent my own fucking aunt to go and pull in the cats
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| You say these roads ain’t cold, then you ain’t living it fam
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| I’m out here, strike a pose, take a picture with man
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| Round here is a no-go for opposite gangs
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| Feds know man and hope to cuffs on my hands
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| Check the slogan
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| Stay busy, hustle and bang
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| And fuck your program
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| Cos I ain’t really fucking with man
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| I come from a place you won’t like to go
|
| Judged by race, you might not make it home
|
| Street from the gully of the gaza
|
| Road come like sauna
|
| These bad man you can’t come back pon the corner
|
| I bleed, it must be the marijuana
|
| If I see enemy, me raise the llama |