Khalas

Krept & Konan & RA (Real Artillery)

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Lyrics

Yeah, RA You know what time it is Krept, Tally Mad ting, sad ting Been real, chrome Maniac, my brudda Greezy ting Every fucking time, man Ready for it How many times? I got dargs that pop off semis for it Fuck all these yutes Gassed Tally the madman Any MC, I'll khalas man Kreptali band, man Afghan Fuck anyone coming at man, what? Spin who? Fuck that, man's on job Sixteens bun you, set man shop Which yute come? Then bet man flop None of you mugs can tek man's spot Long way from Chipset Tally, no bricks, no gram Christians akhi, kids no daddies Pissed in alleys, spliffs and ammi Six and ballies, clips and strallys Wigs and maggies, licked in faciеs Chip from Kabi's, linking baddies Whips in Abbey, tits and batty, dicks in fanny Gyal movе slutty, I'm ringing her for the ucky Cats in Surrey, my nigga's still in the gully Max, no flurry, you niggas thinking it's funny 'Til the rocket out the pocket and all up inna your tummy Where's all the chalies you selling up in the potting, nigga? Where's the Cavalli, Armani and the Versace, nigga? Where's all your honey? Say that you get the punani, nigga Now we getting money, you must be Illuminati Krept, Tally, deep within the streets, miss him G, listen, I eat riddims, I keep spinning Sneak dissing, keep digging, I'll Meek Mill him Peep through him, keep killing, I'll Reaper him Best in the country, beg someone touch me Skets wanna suck me, text me for uck G Feds wanna fuck me, tek 'way my young G I don't give a fuck if Metro truss me I can't believe this shit, they compare me to wack MCs Neeky pricks, I'm from that south side era, man, I G for this That RA gangster grime, that greezy shit It's all real, they can't tek man's sauce still Free up Femz, Weepz, Snap, Goddy, fam, they're all hill RA is R-A-W You know that that had the road mad No metaphor, just smack and know facts When I clap MACs, it's bags and toe tags So don't rap back, just tap your own back Yeah, the ass back, it's that, it's so mad Way back from Pac-Man to black Chapman Had that on a moped in a backpack, man Ride up, jump off the bike and bap-bap And I still ain't taking no backchat Nowadays, man think they're bad on Snapchat I'll back out mad, strap and slap off snapbacks But when I go to the function Big hand ting, whip it out like a truncheon Three .45s like a bus going junction Yeah, them man are rap, but they lie about their dumpings I just know if I let the MAC go Something's getting fried like a dumpling And it's proven, everybody you see me with, they're movers I'm the real deal, they're YouTubers I was on smoke, they was on computers School days badness, badin' up tutors Riding with handtings, hanging off scooters Never been a has-been, banging on Judas Real life shankings, claret on Pumas Real life cabbaging, carrots and lugers Steel pipe damaging faggots and losers Real life managings, havoc and rumours Jail life, mad ting, wacking up shooters So don't make me let off You was on a train, I was on a sweatbox I was in the rain, you was on your Xbox Cocaine, tryna network to a next spot Them times there, my cousin caught a neck shot Out in yard tryna line up a headshot Flew back home tryna get it by the headlock I was getting boxes, banging it in Z shops Then I see a .44, peel back a headtop Seen a MAC make a man twist like a dreadlock (Switch) Ain't top three, that's an insult These neeks don't bang, they ain't involved Black bag full of ink notes PCs had me getting out windows In banger whips doing petty runs Got savages that ain't twenty-one Nearly got grabbed for them firearms I was living with Mars, now I'm buying yards Palace to Heath, I got gang in these streets Free Snapa and Weepz These rappers are neeks They ain't clapping on heat They're just rapping on beats Got an akh in kameez With a passion for beef Got your slag on her knees I was chatting to T While I sat in the heat With crack in my cheeks Black scarf or black mask Wap parked in the cats yard Black heart, never act soft If akh blast on a jackass In a pack dance, better act fast If that barks, that's your hat gone At aunts tryna bag plants Dash past in a cab car Black tart with a fat arse Splash large when I mash out Rap star wearing trap star All I see is nerds and fakers Your Rolex ain't got papers Normal weed in a medicine bottle I don't wanna hear 'bout flavours Crack in the B house, rap like a freestyle I was sixteen with the MAC in my neek's house Flat with my feet out, stacking the meanwhile Neeks on the net, I'ma catch on the rebound They're only bad when they log in Think you're sick 'til you're cold in a coffin Rude boy like Rihanna Before all this, I was robbing For a kilo, echo yankee Bro papa, Oscar papa At your bravo, Oscar yankee Put him to bravo, echo delta My don's in Hunter, come shit, still active I want a hundred Ms, quick like Gatlin You would think my G's from Mozart Selling Fred O's, had the tings dem rattling All this bread, and you think I never bought no tings for the G set? Blud, don't even, you'll see nothing but trackies T ends, my niggas are able to end your weekend Too cold, you're better than who, bro? I phoned up Abz, he got two bookings, he's moving two show Get my cards out and lock the Wraith I change my suit, I cop some Ace I took your girl, don't be so mad I put anything on it, your queen's a slag There's no reversing like a king when It gets on top 'cause man are pitching .32S, you hold six when it hits him .38S will have man skipping None of these MCs are levelling, you think these jokers are anything? Play your cards right, streets are mad, akh Hold your own or be another blackjack What G? Top three niggas, no Krepters Ain't old school? Then you probably won't get this Madman Femz had it out all reckless Banger and a mash and he done it all breakfast Sprayed in the crib, man done it all Westwood Out of the blue like bruddas in Deptford Real artillery, nothing was censored Knocking off braves, man are running through entries Got Gs in the ends too Gs we offend too You ain't buying no arsenal, now you're who the docs need to attend to Come a long way from me and Snap Capone tryna go country Feds took the whip on a fuckery, left man stranded in Wooly I could've strangled them pussies You ain't grabbed no shotties, clapped nobody Catch no bodies, wrapped no Bobby Not my brudda, don't act nobody She sat 'pon cocky, no back, no doggy, dead Comment on my man's picture, I'll beg Click-clack, blaow, watch niggas go deaf Fuck that right now, nigga, I'm vexed Contract signed, six-figure, no less Stop holding your fists like Arthur Like bro ain't got tings for the drama Switchblade get your wig shaved We're leaving your bloodclart barber Black nigga chilling with corporates Fuck who's feeling important You brag 'bout whips, that's awkward Your whip probably cost my insurance I've lost my insanity Bought a chain, I spent your salary My darg on savagery They nicked my chargie for battery Tally's back? It can't be You just brought back the dark me You just brought back Tsunami I'm the wrong one to test Talk about grime, I'm the don in the flesh I was carrying grime like a bomb in a vest Get one out of this ting, make it lunch in your chest Man run out of the gym when I let off this vest Kept the streets alive, I hope for the best Get the beef alive, I'll cook you to death Young Gs will ride, they're looking to rep When I come for man, they get shot to the death 'Cause I'll lick one man down, they look for the rest Spinning in the whip, spinner on my hip Sitting in the Bimmer, it's a ringer with the glitch My darg get the MAC-11, bring it like a chick There's levels to this ting, either kill or you're a prick You never put in work, so you're different to my clique Living in the bits, fidgeting with sticks I know them, so I got it different on the brick Winning on the strip, sinning like a prick I know a lot of man kept wishing I was pitch Stiff it when you're rich, legit in the whip But I weren't, so I had to whip it in a dish Sitting in the crib, get rid of it in bits I don't rate don, how he's living like a snitch Deep in the water, swimming like a fish Catch him in a tower block visiting his chick I made my brudda Res wig him in the lift I come from the era where I'm spitting up sticks Running down paigons and kicking out pricks Young G in the motor, 21 with a poker If he starts talking greeze in Portuguese All you'll see is Nike hoodies and gola If you see the gang, three-seater van If you ain't armed, you're gonna need a hand Hooded up in the corner You'll see more than a Borat if I beef a man No dough, so I sold dope on my old phone Told Tro in the polo on my old road No hope when you go broke 'cah the hoes go No go, so they don't go from the postcode No joke, you can hold smoke, get your clothes soaked Those pokes, when you go close, see the coat holes Won't know 'til you go cold and your soul go Don't know if you'll go home or you won't go Hundred deep at Junior Jam Country show ain't new to man 157 Go on people's day Have you flying off the bus like Superman He said, "If it's on, better dial me in" Shots sound like a loud BM You should've saw the kick on the calibre There'll be nothing but bones if they calcium These nerds ain't never done a hard day I phoned up the plug, said, "I can't wait" He had six Os of the hard 'caine I ate three Os, bought a half eight Man talking 'bout beefing All I see is man tweeting Ting from Kilburn said she wants children So you better get on your knees then Them man are all sheep And you're looking at the GOAT I might pull up in a Lamb' Monkey for the coat I see pigs in my rear I had cats on my phone Damn, my dog on the wing He done a bird, came home Khalas