Lyrics Maaad - Streets Made Innovators, Merky Ace, Leon Vandol

Maaad

Everyone talk good game
But it don’t really faze me (nah)
Dem man dere ain’t mad like Max
Dem boy dere not merky like ACE, B (never)
And dem gyal wotless
Lying on their back, bawling like a baby (joke ting)
Where’s your father?
Man ain’t no sponsor
Eff you, pay me
Two man deep in a rusty
ACE with the Smith, brats with a crutchy
Thinking you’re mad like Max?
Then you must be
You can take a nap right here with the dust, B
I hit the sack with a great ting that’s busty
Big back brown ting, tell her draw the curtains
Touch, get crunched down, then I do the dip
in side pocket with zip
Stash box inna whip
Bun twelve, I don’t slip
Reasoning 'bout seasoning
On the phone with Santoro, that’s VI
Ting what me have are a magnum PI
Turners turn a big man to a knee-high
Me nuh inna rough talk, watch when you see I
Or watch when I rendezvous with your peoples
Talk that tark, you don’t know what road is
Screaming «you tek it too far» when I scold him
Steading the ting like
Heavy in the ting like boulder
And dem man struggle with bowling
It’s not their phone that I’m phoning
Ring the doorbell when they’re home in
Bare time, you must be joking
Can’t chill when I’m on that, ghosting is what you should do
Cause I’ll zone in on your location
Then I roll in, camp outside, push inside
Ting called home controlling
They didn’t like me when I made phones ring
And shot 'nuff, bring bros in
Now I’m out here, they’re all moaning
Too tough, careful what you wish for
They say grind less and just spit more
Don’t wanna know what you tek this ting for
Beef less, mince more, flog ting
Swing jaw, kick door, think raw
Not no more, said you got turners, you ain’t got no four
Too busy talking on the phone with skettel
Mine turns skin inna sting like nettles
You nuh wan' see Max get M-A-D
Everyone talk good game
But it don’t really faze me (nah)
Dem man dere ain’t mad like Max
Dem boy dere not merky like ACE, B (never)
And dem gyal wotless
Lying on their back, bawling like a baby (joke ting)
Where’s your father?
Man ain’t no sponsor
Eff you, pay me
Man are chiefed up right down to the posture
Real recognise imposter
Know real Gs from the east like Trubs and Foster
Got a nice car but you ain’t no mobster
Go out for a meal, get slumped in your lobster
Certified badman, you weren’t on the roster
Likkle man can get his wig left in Devon, at his mum’s house or in Poplar
I’ll never run from a war like Sickers
Stick it on a likkle man’s chest like
Good behaviour stickers
Par with dem boy dere?
I’ll karma dem boy dere
Straight out of Lewi, not Swindon
Turning some grub what the don’s on
Try it, then I spin him in the air like Rondon
I licked out his car windows
And found his home address on his Tom-Tom
Checkmate
Man are outchea, me nuh care what no fed say
Might tell a dead ting that she’s wifey
To use her house to go park off this kway
Thug but you ain’t caused harm till this day
Something in my palm cause this, mate
Roll it in my wrist till I’m sleeping, woke up with wrist ache
Soak it in 'gnac overnight, 'bout it’s fake
Took it off dome cause he’s chick-made
Lewisham, Gaza, come like Whipsnade
And dem gyal could never have my yout
Got a big butt but when’s the last time
A hot milk in that yard’s been made?
Let’s take it back to when I had a skin fade
Gyal came my hood
Deep times, it’s two weeks since I did baid
Real T boy, no kid’s play
Blue Battlefield, not mixtape
Trade big break, not brick-lay
Bermondsey, not Brick Lane
Wrap it all up, then switch place
TG to the sale
Mad Max is ACE
Baow, baow
Mad Max, get bax
Tizzy Gang
Everyone talk good game
But it don’t really faze me (nah)
Dem man dere ain’t mad like Max
Dem boy dere not merky like ACE, B (never)
And dem gyal wotless
Lying on their back, bawling like a baby (joke ting)
Where’s your father?
Man ain’t no sponsor
Eff you, pay me