| Shopping got flick shank in my pocket with a bullet
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| Big ting, but there’s nowhere to lock it
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| My young boy said the ting kept jammin'
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| Looked at big bro, should’ve kept on cockin'
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| In this yardie dance, who’s my man preein' my ting, asked bro, should’ve
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| knocked him
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| You ever heard knock-knock on your door? |
| Nobody don’t move and they keep on
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| knockin'
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| Bro got an angle on my man so this should not stop him
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| You ever circled the opp block for one individual, prayin' to God that you spot
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| him (Where you at?)
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| And too mad, he’s over tapped, wind down the back window and shot him
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| Me and bro like Batman and Robin
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| Back in the day used to bat man and rob him
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| Fick of the wrist when I swing this borer
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| Tryna rip man’s core up
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| Real definition of slaughter, spin that Corsa
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| Pull up with bro no Warner
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| Check that dots so it’s shorter
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| Shush got bored up, wet like water, civilians saw us
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| Rude, rude, rude, no cap, that’s out of order
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| That gyal is bruckin' it, yeah, she’s lovin' it
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| Beat and bounce, no cuddlin'
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| Just gave the D now she stutterin'
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| Pull up with corn and we gon' slap some of it
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| Bro popped one at him, hop for covering, bare man stumblin', them man are
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| sufferin'
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| If you was wonderin', he’s outside wanderin'
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| The first time I stepped out, man fell in love with it
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| My akhi’s out broad-day blastin'
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| Tell him «Cool down when you should be fastin'»
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| Gyal know who I am, why you askin'?
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| Why dem convo? |
| Slow down, you’re jarrin'
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| And bro once in the ends, get clartin'
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| Now he’s at home rechargin'
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| And gyal like just give it to Sav and bro get past it
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| Bandokay, I’m boss on my block so should I say Nizzy or Farm Block?
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| Make cell phones ring like alarm clocks
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| High road, road, broski clarted
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| Yo, feds on the kid, man park off
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| Dart off, big bro’s bark off
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| And don’t get me mad cah you get too mad and you don’t want Trapo to start off
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| If you wren’t able to ching or shoot like bando
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| Said you’re gettin' fling in the boot
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| Grip and shoot, won’t pick and choose
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| No ip-dip-does when the stick goes boom
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| Look at my friend like we’re drillers for true
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| Me and T we’re a similar yutes
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| Spin tings spin at him and his bruce
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| Hop out gang, start ringin' the broom
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| I’m out in the dark with a wap in my hand
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| Make it kick like Jackie Chan
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| You ever run man down with a sams that’s long as your leg tryna capture man?
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| My lil bro Sav he a sav, man he slapped off tryna hashtag dat
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| He ain’t tryna slide for the flats, why they lyin' for the tracks,
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| are you fine with that?
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| Yo, I guess Bradz fresh home like Dazza
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| Free V Jugg, done-done him a mazza
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| T Trap is a booter and trapper, slapper
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| Turn off your local rapper
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| I was in beef I didn’t go Napa
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| But I was with Crep, I was with MoStacka
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| Or should I say MoStack, don’t believe them, that boy’s a capper
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| Wheels go round and round whilst broski’s hangin' out tryna sound and sound
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| Broski reached for his pouch, got a ting that’s tall like Peter Crouch
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| Two tings, one West, one South
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| One come to the ends and open mouth
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| Me Bando, I like it in a T house but rap saved me and I’m on the way out
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| Gunshot for a fake or snake, when I wake and bake on a paper blane
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| Make it beat like 808, gave him a chase it’s a make or break
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| Tryna save your day when I aim
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| I’m tryna hit two man straight
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| Ride with phones, that’s basic played
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| Light tek, rise up the beat, let’s play
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| Dudu, really livin' with the spittin'
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| Do it for the fibbin', dem man do it for the image
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| My side ride with sticks like witches
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| Pop up, click it and tu’n man spinach
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| Spot two man, which one are we pickin'?
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| Ended up both like Headie One’s riddim
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| You already know I spit one livin'
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| Even in Carni we bring it
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| Police on my back and they keep it mind games
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| You got beef with who? |
| Heard man’s head that they all got migranes
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| I hate it when man move sideways
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| Some lightweight, not my way
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| Right now I’m on the beat with YJ
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| I got YK, the right way, the young G will shot when I say
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| Rude, rude, spill some juice
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| Broom, broom, sweep up yutes
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| Who’s on who? |
| My gang’s on you
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| Two two’s, an opp got spooned
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| 10: 00 news
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| Got smoke in the ride tryna give him the twos
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| Poo, poo, my opps are poo
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| No way are we callin' a truce |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Flick Of The Wrist , by - Bandokay. Song from the album Drill Commandments, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп