Lyrics Year Of The Real - Meekz, M1llionz, Teeway

Year Of The Real

Brigade
MKThePlug
Sapphire Beatsz
Dropped the last ting
Got everyone askin', what’s with the mask ting?
Is he wanted?
Have they grabbed him?
Is he paid off this rap ting or is he trappin'?
I got fans in the USA, now I can fly packs in
But right now, the mandem are growin' a mad ting
We got UK cheap and eighths for the low
Three-five or five for the 'Dam ting
I paid three G’s for the hand ting
Can your block fry plantain?
Free my G’s on the landin'
I can tell by the way that my man’s actin'
That he’s never been locked for the mad ting
Lost it all and remanded
Sat in jail gettin' racks in
Connectin', came home
Got links all over the map now, I’m active
Tek' a time in jail for some daft shit
My last run was good while it lasted
Ten quid on a Tuesday, stupid bastards
Two kids in the bando movin' backwards
Push flake 'til I’m paid, in the grave or landin'
Guess I’m paid off trappin'
If I get locked with opps
I’ll rock my sock, I ain’t chillin' with snakes on the landin'
I woke up switchin', pissed off at random
Probably cah my bitch never answered
I’m on FaceTime to my G
Go to the strip club and show me the dancers
Fuck the home, I’ll imagine
I’ll be home 'til my phone in a badness
Home to the roads, gettin' dough for my nanan
Amount of O’s that a man made vanish
Shit I did for the dough, man a savage
Manchester, home of the gangsters
I don’t trust Insta, my phone or bangers
Anything I do in there is all banters
If it weren’t for the feds I’d show you a madness
This ain’t promo, if I post a pic with bro-bro
Had the popo doin' mad shit
In the pot got the yolo doin' backflips
Gotta TT the block and OT the magic
I gotta have it, must be habits, rusty, bang it
Country slangin', bunch of has beens
You ain’t gangin', changed the game, bare thankin'
Changed the game, better thank him
Young rich shit what the fiends in the band think
The man at the desk just askin' me questions
'No sergeant, I don’t feel suicidal'
Fans playing my tunes on Tidal
While I’m tryna spend stream money on rifles
I dashed my phone but I got it backed up
So I can’t really lie man, that’s sim card’s vital
Next day, I got my worker runnin' like Usain Bolt in Olympic finals
Rejected the duty solicitor and went 'no comment'
It ain’t rocket science
And this game ain’t hot, it’s fryin'
I ain’t no ganja farmer, the crop keeps dyin'
I’m on the tech' and the night bus rushed by
Won’t get through this door how hard you try it
Barricade in case the power rangers raid
And have man on basic dyin'
I just come out the station pissed
In Morley’s, fans shouldn’t have asked for a pic
It’s mandatory that I black out the whip
These tints help me blend when carryin' sticks
I hit the market town shottin' twenties for tens
Of course, there’s magic in it
Sent a broke ting to traffic a brick
Don’t touch the suitcase, there’s packets in it
Kitchen ting to the training ground
It might have got peak after football trials
I spent seven on designer bugs
Old school times, would’ve been Scott & Lyle
Or should I say Lyle & Scott
That .40 did jam cah it had no oil
Known for shottin' machine in these slim fit jeans
That’s what you call pattern and style
That 50cc weren’t blowin' no trace
Man had to get it de-restricted
Loaded the dash and my seat just lifted
Buss the red lights and the jakes just missed it
Fifteen bills, get the calls encrypted
For the PGP, man might just risk it
And it ain’t for no biscuit
Half box of B in Raw brown rizlas
They locked my block cah the junkies wired
I used to get ku off B Low, come like Heathrow
The pack just flyin'
Verbal abuse from pussies
All for the crutch, that’s tired
Revolvers that bang
Pinocchio gang cah the whole of your gangdem liars
Check it, ST livin' in cunch
He’ll spin it on drunks and the waigons too
Ten got ten tryna aim and shoot
This big lead in the skeng
We don’t pay for fire like pay-per-view
S just let that bang out the German
I smack that like I’m in eighty-two
I don’t know nuttin' 'bout retail workin'
I kept on jerkin' and takin' food
How could I get more weight to move?
I was so young as a weighty fucker
Two hands on a weighty brucker
Mum know I’m gonna be late for supper
Bro tryna reb it in eights, you nutter
That’s fifties right to the one G
I should’ve had paper planes
I hit the one-way, head right to the country
Thankful for the life that I got
Tight rock, Lira Galore and Jason
Buss how much shoots in cunch like Kaylum
Two hundred miles up north
Ain’t Futurama, we need a spaceship
Smashin' it out like Karla’s back in the town
Never missed a patient
Niggas wanna be famous
M still paintin' the pave' like Banksy
Three t’ump knock on the door
Tell Roger to hide with Stan, no Francine
Really should’ve made a plan B
Four fives off, now the junkies thank me
We ain’t never been Berlin
I was way too young in a German back seat
Lost his-, thought he was Tarzan
Bare fake yutes just tryna facade man
M10 on the loose, that’s loose, he’s drownin'
Save him, get him an armband
I risked all my rights for bro
And I lost rights when the cunts disarm man
Now I need me an auto rents
Cah the stupid pigs put me on a car ban
I put my time in the trap
I put my slugs in mashes
How many times was I under attack?
How many times did I back out my-?
And showed him the world is passa
Young dark one gettin' mula
Officer, I won’t surrender
Free up my brudda, that’s K1
Free up my brudda, that’s Jojo
Free up my brudda, that’s Mason
Rolled all black like Jason
Free up Berto, the shit dem Isle of Wight
He’s still holding it down
I come from a side of town
Where you either eat, or be eaten
In the hill side strip we’re so ravin'
But we still got the din
'Cause of risks we took
Did I get rushed?
How many donuts must get rushed?
I swing first and still left last
They see guns, should’ve seen their face
I see them flee, them boy feeble
I pree them snakes from a bird’s eye view
Came like eagle, with the militant power
Them boy sour, can’t be like me
Lizzy baby, my wifey
I can’t take treason lightly
I was in a useless strip
I was flippin' that work daily
Your girl say that I’m wavey
Oh, I know I’m so wavey
The ghetto is what made me old
The ghetto is what made me
Like, hop out the Ford with force
Quick, skrr, better not fall
Dotty came long and tall
Hammer man down like Thor
Win a mad ting, still score and bore
Dip a mad ting, I’m mad with sword
If a man try show no remorse
Show no remorse
Like, 'low all the verbal chat
Dem ah talk, dem ah talk, dem ah talk, dem ah talk
Dem ah talk, 'til a boy gets
Whoosh, splash and that
Misch, mash and bag packs in the morn'
Wham war haffi dead
Try balls, night falls gone red
Could’ve been neck or
I came all dark like umm
Brigade
MKThePlug
Sapphire Beatsz