Lyrics Times Three - Rv, Kwengface, Ps

Times Three

My young boy wanna do drills, tryna be like me when I was his age
I used to get 'round there and try shave man’s head, I ain’t talking 'bout skin
fades
I move weight from my trap phone, I don’t really care 'bout gym day
When I say I’m a savage, it’s more than the name of my mixtape
All the points that I’ve scored on the field, I should be 99 on FIFA
He thinks she’s a keeper 'till he found out that RV jeet her
I would spend years in a cell if I get nicked with the ting in my trunks
Might go coo' and grab that beater, now I got a beam on my hand like Frieza
Hope somebody trippy, I’ll leave man red
Hitsquad step
Get it correct, man just pull up and leave man wet
Riding, got a theme park on deck
Hitsquad, everyone knows my set
Show him hell with the kitchen, my team got chefs
Do it like Kweng, lean and shoot
If it weren’t Bruce or Bruski, then it was probably YK or Snoop
If he rides, I’m riding too, no, I don’t ask YG or who
And I don’t know nuttin' 'bout sponsors but I still scream free DSQ
Free DSQ
Bae said let someone else go out that food, why always you?
Two hands when I lean and shoot, got two hands when I bruck this food
Splash man down in my jeans, now they look like DSQ’s
I’m in O with strategic moves, I’m just tryna do me, not you
I got gyaldem callin' me cute, but I’m a crash bandit
.38, baby Bruce ain’t lazy, PS rise and tap it
Anything opp can have it, tragic, Pecknarm’s here, don’t panic
Anything opp can have it, tragic, Pecknarm’s here, don’t panic
Four door truck anytime man step, won’t see RV on no Vespa
Anytime my trigger finger itches, I know it ain’t 'cause I got eczema
I put wraps on scales, any waps on sale, I’m a good investor
Used to go park and test it, now I just take it there for a tester
I just wanna stack my papers
Even though I rap and I’m famous, still see opps and back my shavers
Better just run, don’t act courageous
Make man curl up like a pack of Quavers
Bitch said that the beef ting childish, me and my son got matching trainers
Look, don’t act like a arse cah man get slapped like a arse
Pull swords out like Anglo-Saxons, man turn pack from the anglo arms
Or, man just lean and pop like a elbow drop, man angled the arms
No bang to bang man bang on the arm, shit, have man chatting to God
No, I ain’t making no diss songs
Just run up in Choice like I want that, I want his one
I like backs, I like big bums, lighties, I like brownings and thick ones
We ride with them big guns, strapped up, no seatbelt, we crash this one
Nigga Hitsquad
Tell them it’s Brexit
If you ain’t in it or with it, then best hit that exit
I been up in cunch, trappin' for months, only right that I’m flexin'
Now feds tryna do me for PWITS, tryna link me to tex’es
Bro said the wrong thing so I cheffed him
Lurk and pivot
On the M way hitting a hundred with a bad B and she think I wan' kill it
Yo, I just see feds in the ends spinning ahead, I ain’t holding a spinach
They know us man be the realest, drillers and chingers, us man did it