Lyrics I Used To - Sneakbo, Stickz, M Dargg

I Used To

Nine fuckin' lives
I stand cool now, you need to chill out and get myself right
This what I always do, I always try to come out, help the man, and do this,
do that
In that time, when I’m in, I get hot
I ain’t gon' jail, fuck that, that’s dead
I wanna live
I wanna live, I wanna see life
All my twenties up in jail, fam
Imagine all my twenties, I was in jail
I used to waste time on opps
I use to rise up that .9 or Glock
I circle man’s block and beat off shots
I’m aimin' on-point, yeah, broski got touched
He’s like, «Sneakbo's a real G though, innit?»
Why you think that?
'Cause he’s real, man
Lekaa Beats
I used to waste time on opps
I use to rise up that .9 or Glock
I circle man’s block and beat off shots
I’m aimin' on-point, your broski got touched
I used to spend time in cunch
I’m in the trap house tryna flip that grub
I got my mask on tryna rob that plug
I tek weh man’s cash and tek weh man’s stuff
I lacked and got stabbed by opps
My broski stepped out and turnt man off
They talk but they ain’t on job
Fam when the G’s ride, leave them man rubbed
Give out the smoke, bust man’s gun
Bring out the smoke, somebody gon' get bun
I love to see them man run
I love to see man try run and get tu’n (Skrrt)
I used to waste time in jail
I used to sit back and pray for bail
I used to not write no girls
I used to bust heads with friends in cells
I used to love road so much
I’m on the block, yeah, 'til the sun came up
The beef was on, K got his gun game up
The feds were on man, couple man still gone
I used to waste time on opps
I use to rise up that .9 or Glock
I circle man’s block and beat off shots
I’m aimin' on-point, your broski got touched
I used to spend time in cunch
I’m in the trap house tryna flip that grub
I got my mask on tryna rob that plug
I tek weh man’s cash and tek weh man’s stuff
Point me to the drama
Yes, I’m the one move Gully and Gaza
In the drill ting, I am the master
King or the father, whatever you rather
Didn’t get my man I was after
Then I came right back 'round like karma
I’ll put my man through trauma
He’s talkin' bare 'til I spill man’s lager
He’s due for a slaughter
Said he moves weight but the’s still on a quarter
I’ll leave my man in the corner
Now he’s like weed from California
I was in Kent, I was in Bristol
Dishin' out dirty dubs and crystal
Show you a trick, switch hands with a pistol
Got a revolver, resolvin' the issue
It’s a sad ting
See man wounded bad from a hand ting
Give him the five up down when I’m shankin'
This ain’t a rampin' shop for your rampin'
The three-door GB’s crampin'
We do drills, drops and campin'
Butter man’s toast, I don’t know 'bout jammin'
I’m there with Shannon, it’s nothin' but slammin'
Why she wanna ride it
As soon as I open my eyelids?
And this bad B come like a ding-dong
Bit rusty and got some mileage
Yeah, I’m done with the talkin'
If you want beef, go and put some heart in
Yeah, the opps are jarrin'
They soon catch chilli con carnin'
I used to waste time on opps
I use to rise up that .9 or Glock
I circle man’s block and beat off shots
I’m aimin' on-point, your broski got touched
I used to spend time in cunch
I’m in the trap house tryna flip that grub
I got my mask on tryna rob that plug
I tek weh man’s cash and tek weh man’s stuff
I used to waste time on opps
I use to rise up that .9 or Glock
I circle man’s block and beat off shots
I’m aimin' on-point, your broski got touched
I used to spend time in cunch
I’m in the trap house tryna flip that grub
I got my mask on tryna rob that plug
I tek weh man’s cash and tek weh man’s stuff
I’m like yeah, the old G’s, innit
And then yeah
But think about it though, Sneakbo got far though, innit
Comin' out of the hood, innit, I’m like come on, innit
He’s like, he’s like, «Sneakbo's a real G though, innit»
I’m like, I’m like, «Why you think that?»
'Cause he’s real man, you can’t say 'why do you think that?'
Feel me?
'Cause it’s like, he’s real innit
Come on, like obviously he’s done a lot of shit from comin' up Brixton,
you feel me?
He’s what establishes us out there