| Sykes, Sykes
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| Woi-woi-woi-woi-woi
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| I’m in the back of this car, no taxi
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| Sadly, I beg a man please try mad me
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| You’ll see this hand ting get handy
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| Live-O corn when I slap this gladly
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| One in the head, jump out and get tappy
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| I didn’t catch him, I didn’t go back happy
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| Pattys, pattys, some fucking pattys
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| Bally up, spot man and get splashy
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| Switch
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| You don’t wanna see me switch up off the moped with a stick, no witch
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| This sweet one stepped out in drip
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| Three balls in her tongue, this brown skins thick
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| Telling me she rates my songs and dick
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| Back Rambos, not a fan of flicks
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| This .38 hand ting holds six
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| Like Turna, with bae I can’t slip
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| I can talk on bare man’s name
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| Fifteen, that was me on the ride with my blade
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| Then the next two rides man went on
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| The wap got brought, the spinner and the gauge
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| If you don’t see no one at Tops or Commerce
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| We’re circling Turnpike Lane
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| Tryna just ching man out of their J’s
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| Ayy, broski holdin' the clutch then brake
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| Bro’s too tapped, he keeps on squeezing
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| Sneezing, this is the shotgun season
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| Get back gang with the dotty’s revealing
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| S slapped it, jumped out and beat it
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| Gang 'dem crash, no Flight of the Phoenix
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| Two in the dots for five of these eediats
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| Shh got cheffed up and then left bleeding
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| Lack on the road, that’s normal procedures
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| These opp boys must’ve gone ku-ku
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| 'Cause I’m really on drills, no fibs
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| Man’s holding a fuck off chings
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| If you see Double Lz, step round with a limp
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| Always two guns up in the whip
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| Slap that quick, watch his whole body twitch
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| Don’t think you can ride on the Nizz
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| Man slide right back in a tinted whip
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| If I slap this corn out the hand ting
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| It’s a mad ting if I press this trigger
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| Six man squashed in this dinger
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| Chest shot chinger, Jump Out Gang with this spinner
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| This opp thot come way too inna
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| Cah her friend got shot, she don’t know who’s the driller
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| To all the opp boys, it’s your friends we bill up
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| No reaction, they don’t ride for their nigga
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| I’m on the O, ten toes with my soldiers
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| I don’t beef my age, I got beef with olders
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| Man crash this corn off motors
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| This shotgun slaps and it flings my shoulder
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| Tion Wayne is a fucking joker
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| Come carni tryna spill juice, that’s soaker
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| Buck four, he tried run with his poker
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| He’s with DV and they both got poked up
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| Yo, I’m tryna do it like Boogs
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| Swing blades in hoods but they got broski on the case
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| This shotgun come long like Grace
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| Half it-half it so it comes in the rave
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| On the stage with H, big shank on my waist
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| So I’m in N9 with my mates
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| Gang changing plates
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| Tape off your estates, then head straight back to the base
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| This sweet one keeps talking 'bout dates
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| If I slap this gauge, whole neighbourhood awakes
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| Bro Kush put his foot on the brakes
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| My driller backed it and try hit that face
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| If we can’t see H then we gon' get blades
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| Either way, it works both ways
|
| Bro’s drunk off Wrays, got corn for days
|
| So don’t get blammed on the mains
|
| I’m in the back of this car, no taxi
|
| Sadly, I beg a man please try mad me
|
| You’ll see this hand ting get handy
|
| Live-O corn when I slap this gladly
|
| One in the head, jump out and get tappy
|
| I didn’t catch him, I didn’t go back happy
|
| Pattys, pattys, some fucking pattys
|
| Bally up, spot man and get splashy
|
| Switch
|
| You don’t wanna see me switch up off the moped with a stick, no witch
|
| This sweet one stepped out in drip
|
| Three balls in her tongue, this brown skins thick
|
| Telling me she rates my songs and dick
|
| Back Rambos, not a fan of flicks
|
| This .38 hand ting holds six
|
| Like Turna, with bae I can’t slip
|
| I can talk on bare man’s name
|
| Fifteen, that was me on the ride with my blade
|
| Then the next two rides man went on
|
| The wap got brought, the spinner and the gauge
|
| If you don’t see no one at Tops or Commerce
|
| We’re circling Turnpike Lane
|
| Tryna just ching man out of their J’s
|
| Ayy, broski holdin' the clutch then brake
|
| Sykes, Sykes |