Lyrics Triggered - Rv

Triggered

Which one of them laid a finger on me?
I’ll wait
Smoke opps 'till my pupils dilate
Ran down JD, punched up YK
I ain’t gotta name drop
Bored up shh in bait Tops
Should’ve seen how long that blade was
His mate got his brain shot in the same spot
Knife game legendary, they should put my shank in a museum
Opps get cut like shapes, leave them flat line, 2D 'em
Shitden, shitden
Them man are broke
So I bring tools 'round there and go fix them
Run down young G’s, punch up big men
May the lord be my witness
No homo, you ain’t gotta be a girl to get all these inches
I’ll grab my Rambo and put fifteen in the back like Dier
Or get cheffed in the face
And left with a scar like Marlo from The Wire
Ain’t got a body but God loves a trier
That’s why I just cheff and cheff until I can’t cheff no more
Ay, rudeboy, check the scores
How many times have I stepped with four?
My new ting’s filled with teeth
Come like this skeng got jaws
Gang let off corn at the opps
But I still got plenty more
Opps been pulling up recently
'Bout time after all them vio’s
Your bredrin’s world hashtagged in their bio’s
Skengs in rides when we cruise, no Taio
It’s on sight for them yutes
They fuck with friends, I’ll ride on them too
Been 'round there, blacked out to the brim
And I’ve been with sandals on too
From young I been taking chores
Half of the opps been chased or bored
What do you know 'bout seeing blue lights
With skengs in the ride and it ain’t insured
Scoreboard already a whitewash
Still, I’m tryna make it more
I can never be like my man
And get caught on dates with whores
This girl thinks I’ma make her my main
All cah I said she’s buff
What do you know 'bout giving the worker a pack
Like, you better not mess this up
Any opp that I got deserved it
Anything green, man cheff that up
Don’t step on my toes, got red on my soles
These creps are expensive stuff
Hit that trap, get filthy rich
Opps get whacked, we drill them pricks
Intent to supply, I put skengs in the ride
Ask them how much drills we did
And if they lift up, you’ll see their stab wounds
I lift mine and reveal this stick
Told bae, got a ting on my waist
So you better slow down when you feel this dick
Bad B’s can come to the Nizz
For the opps, it’s no entry
I really live what I rap
That’s why feds use my lyrics against me
Anytime that I go to the opp block
I bet that strip is empty
My son is the Fresh Prince of Tottenham
Now I’m the king like Ledley
Drilling and trapping, prolific offender
But put respect on my name
I got too much racks to be called a gang member
I must have dementia, cah I can’t remember
All the times that the opps just ran
Cah they weren’t tryna surrender
Black outfit and a fuck off waps
Stan Lee should’ve made me an Avenger
Lil bro got a shank like Zelda
Tryna take it on a adventure
I told him chill but he weren’t having a bar like Demba
This bad B thinks we’re compatible
Just 'cause I was born in December