Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song GOLA, artist - Local. Date of issue: 03.03.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
GOLA |
| Not Oz but I go right under |
| Wonder, why I don’t do leftovers |
| Been doing it since loafers |
| Spitting with the olders, and I had in-line rollers |
| Hated school my mum bought me Gola’s |
| Now I rub serious shoulders |
| Got friends that deliver cocaine, and I got friends that’s delivering sofas |
| Five-yard box man are poachers, Golden Boot man are Ruud van Nis' |
| 'Nuff emcees wanna ring my phone but I can’t connect like a two-man kiss |
| I used to love my rap, I was 2Pac that, I was Wu-Tang this |
| One double-oh real, three-piece meal, I’m healthy I never done fruit and fish |
| This girl’s blind to my love, ain’t feeling my words like braille |
| I wore my crocodile shoes, but Jimmy got drunk and broke your nail |
| Badmouth pro, make a diss count, and I ain’t talking mid-summer sale |
| Quick backshot on a female cop is the last time that I had feds on a tail |
| I’m a Welsh boy like Gareth, but I got too many friends on bail |
| Went Greece and I came home pale |
| Woke up on a network rail |
| I ain’t bagging up drugs, so what we sell is on a different scale |
| Locs, shoulda gone Sweet Valley High, I’m old-school like Martin and Gale |
| I got a cup that I wanna fill up, I got something that I wanna bill up, |
| we ain’t done |
| Might see me doing bits in the sun, late for the airport driving a tonne |
| And I got one girl still jumping the gun so I stopped seeing her when it |
| stopped being fun |
| Pass me a spliff and a rum, pass me a kick and a drum |
| It’s Locs, I get popping, bopping, avoiding my Sky Bet login |
| Bone and skin never not been thin but my lungs don’t work so I might get jogging |
| TV laptop, might get to flogging |
| Ain’t been shopping and my trainers bogging |
| These days I don’t getta wagwan, back in the day my door wouldn’t stop knocking |
| One two boogie I boogie, yeah I go uptown clubs in a hoodie |
| Give girls buzz for the woody, high-grade, look in the jar that’s cookie |
| Still walk through Boots for the pussy, I was in grassroots, didn’t see |
| I always knew they jacked in the city, but I still wanna know who killed Pookie |
| And I ain’t no rookie when it comes to the verse, ain’t no rookie when it comes |
| to the mic |
| I only came for a drink and dance, you man came for a Facebook like |
| Bought Paul Smith, still wore Nike |
| Three-piece meal on the back of the bike |
| I’m from Rumney where it ain’t too sunny and Friday’s always a fight |
| Buh! |