Lyrics Talk On My Name - Sevaqk, Rv, Aystar

Talk On My Name

I’m in the cut with Bruce
And they’re looking at me confused
Like what’s that shit on your shoes?
Is it Loubs or an opp boy’s juice?
My wrap sheet speaks for itself
I ain’t got nothing to prove
Talk on my name, that’s loose
Move, don’t get yourself got for views
I’m in the cut with Bruce
And they’re looking at me confused
Like what’s that shit on your shoes?
Is it Loubs or an opp boy’s juice?
My wrap sheet speaks for itself
I ain’t got nothing to prove
Talk on my name, that’s loose
Move, don’t get yourself got for views
Took my young boy for a drive
Told him make that beat like Sykes
Any opp that you see you best hit that
Don’t think think twice, just hit it like Nike
I’m never empty handed
Gotta step with a skeng or a knife
And bro just said that I’m tapped cah I’m too anti like my uncle’s wife
Real recognise real
Not one day I don’t step with my steel
Get round there on a casual day on a outfit that costs 25 bills
Load up the clip, jump in the whip
Skid skrrr, rev up my wheels
All the gold teeth that I bought for the stap
Look, I had to go get me my grills
You couldn’t walk a mile in my shoes
Some things are only for bosses
If my plug didn’t rise the price
I swear on my life I never would have robbed him
Went OT for a fortnight, killed the game and I came back flossing
I remember when a Range was out of my range till I went to the dealer and
copped it
I’m in the cut with Bruce
And they’re looking at me confused
Like what’s that shit on your shoes?
Is it Loubs or an opp boy’s juice?
My wrap sheet speaks for itself
I ain’t got nothing to prove
Talk on my name, that’s loose
Move, don’t get yourself got for views
I’m in the cut with Bruce
And they’re looking at me confused
Like what’s that shit on your shoes?
Is it Loubs or an opp boy’s juice?
My wrap sheet speaks for itself
I ain’t got nothing to prove
Talk on my name, that’s loose
Move, don’t get yourself got for views
I’m in the cut with the .44, you don’t wanna get yourself slapped
Big sweets in the ting, any bone get touched gets snapped
Circle the opp block, nigga this shit’s been lapped
Anyhow I see a opp, better know I’m gonna get man clapped
These niggas want beef, same niggas ain’t got one strap
So how they gonna beef with the kid?
I’ll get round there like The Stig
Pull up, skid, skrrr, splash and leave two slugs in his ribs
I’ll get man clipped for a quid
They won’t even know who it is
I’m in the cut with Bruce and they’re looking at me confused
Cause I just left all shells on the scene and I didn’t even leave no clues
Had man tripping over his shoes
He didn’t wanna get hit with that rouge
I’m in the cut with Bruce
And they’re looking at me confused
Like what’s that shit on your shoes?
Is it Loubs or an opp boy’s juice?
My wrap sheet speaks for itself
I ain’t got nothing to prove
Talk on my name, that’s loose
Move, don’t get yourself got for views
I’m in the cut with Bruce
And they’re looking at me confused
Like what’s that shit on your shoes?
Is it Loubs or an opp boy’s juice?
My wrap sheet speaks for itself
I ain’t got nothing to prove
Talk on my name, that’s loose
Move, don’t get yourself got for views
You’re a rap boy and a typer
Lil bro just caught him a case, if he lose it then he’s sitting down with lifers
Big bro’s just out here dishing up boxes, that boy’s far from a fighter
And we’ve still got tings in boots, star in the hood just do it like Stryder
Try run but he felt that burn
Usain couldn’t make that turn
Bro wanna get smokey on a Friday, see me pulling up like Big Worm
Still pull up crash, dash and repeat cah them boys don’t learn
Stop man if they’re talking reckless, told SJ bill up them herbs
In the cut with M and Rose and it don’t even matter which ones
And they’ve both got different guns
It don’t even matter which ones
Old school, I woulda just DigDat till I got blood on my Air Force 1's
Don’t need no bouncer cause I play dirty with live corn in my gun
I’m in the cut with Bruce
And they’re looking at me confused
Like what’s that shit on your shoes?
Is it Loubs or an opp boy’s juice?
My wrap sheet speaks for itself
I ain’t got nothing to prove
Talk on my name, that’s loose
Move, don’t get yourself got for views
I’m in the cut with Bruce
And they’re looking at me confused
Like what’s that shit on your shoes?
Is it Loubs or an opp boy’s juice?
My wrap sheet speaks for itself
I ain’t got nothing to prove
Talk on my name, that’s loose
Move, don’t get yourself got for views