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Foreign Exchange (2020 Remaster)
S.A.S
Popularity ยท Low
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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Lyrics
Original
Translation
Bilingual
Beno!
ย
Yo, it's six blocks, a nigga in my rear view
Gun on my lap like homie I dare you
He pulled up I say, "Yo, you prepared to
Be Michael Jordan? Cause I'm about to air you"
Shot him in the air boo, sorry I can't hear you
Shot him in the back of his head, a new hairdo
What's the matter mami? Oh, did I scare you?
Skip that, check this, everything I wear is new
That's wrist to the wrist, yes sir fitted the kicks
All of my shit is legit cause I get the grits from the bricks
In the Ritz with some chicks, they being friends with the clique
One slim, the other one 400 Benjamins thick
I surrendered the brick, mami inventin' some shit
Bank man (thanks again) nah, don't mention it bitch
It come to cash, I hold the shit with a gremlin's grip
They feelin' you Puff? Nah, they been on my dick
We the first British crew to rep, huff your minimal respect
I had to stretch for every decimal I get
Still hustlin', schemin' for a cheque
I got that white girl with white girl, streamin' on a jet (swoosh)
I'm not with the fakin' please, locksmiths exchangin' keys
Oil and flour, they call my block the bakery
Zoom through the cameras, the youth roll ambassadors
Are goons? Nah, cartoons, you a character
Stay fly preferably, but these guys is worse than thieves
Birthed by me, swagger jackin' certainly
We posted in Poland, Russia, swervin' V's
Thugs, well there's goony, they heard of me in Germany
In the US, veterans I birthed
From their chicks, get interest, Federal Reserve
So girls get a rush when I make songs
I get my space on, I'm James Bond, the world's not enough (runway!)
Yo we got them bars locked like it's prohibition
They just show our clique in, no admission
And you claimin' that you're global, you got no proof
I'm ravin' in Sicily on dance floors with no roof
On my way to the city to link some blonde hotties
I step through with the nephew of John Gotti (Steve!)
And you ain't sold no yay
See I'm piffin' while we listenin' to Loso Way
Put in work, I'm on my job
See the proof is in the puddin', check the flight log
Rumour has it that them faggots wanna try rob me?
Please that's music to my ears, no iPod
Gwan like he cold, I ain't a coward neither
He a nasty piece of work, a foul creature
Sicily schemin', havin' meanin' like the Tower of Pisa
He was here, now he gone, alopecia
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