Mad About Bars Part 2

Unknown T, Kenny Allstar, Mixtape Madness

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And true say man crept to the top Hustle for days, I learnt both ways Plug foHustle for days, I learntr the shape and the crops It look like I come out the gym and I shot (Whoof) Look like I come out the gym and I shot Listen Work that chef like it's Novikov I've been on bail for the longest More time Boydem gob Man just sit in the dock Get released and I don't look bov' The cops like; "How did he do that job?" come More time it's a Niner ting I been that silent one Opps can't fuck with da thug We made the Tridents come More time it's a Niner ting I been that silent one More time I've been complacent But when bro got dropped Fuck all the guap I stepped out with no hesitation Man lurk from the public station Slow down 'cause there ain't no mistaking And I've been tryna rake this cake in You can never hold it down like man, 'cah my life's been aching Police on my nuts it's fucked Earnt that luck, cases bruck Opps can't fuck with da thug We made the Tridents come And dis one look like an undie Nuh, we dont supply that drug In fact, do I look like a mug? Word, man, rock on my stainless tucked We don't do this monkey bar ting Fence and get chinged Bag that work with the latex on, the rack will come in Again and again, the racks will come in OT blingin', the phone keeps ringing Circle your block, pop doors get chinging Fuck dem opps, for the boy dem singing That prick had a vicious dipping How many nights had to bake in the Bando to get that guap? I flew OT tryna lick that stain, so we hit that spot Bag dat up, and serve 'dem dots Opps can't mock 'bout guap Man push work a lot My old school gyal love the way man rock Man flex on a bae like, "What?" And true say man crept to the top Hustle for days, I learnt both ways Plug for the shape and the crops It look like I come out the gym and I shot (Whoof) Look like I come out the gym and I shot Listen There's too much chat on the street, I've been itching to write man off Bro got juice on my favourite shirt So I burnt that top Work that chef like it's Novikov I've been on bail for the longest More time Boydem gob Man just sit in the dock Get released and I don't look bov' The cops like; "How did he do that job?" Had a dot-dot up in the cab, got Polkas in bags We soak him and dash Bro-bro got the clique on waps Beg man don't run, when they see that wap Got the clique on mash Beg man don't run, when they see that wap Bro-bro got the clique on waps Beg man don't run, when they see that mash I had devilish thoughts when I witnessed the body get chopped Banged the one pop In fact, there's still spots in this spin ting Come like them old school clocks Listen One lickle ching and they chat like kids He got splashed, and he got cheffed We didn't say shit Gang just pop up and tape off strips Real nigga shit Pamper ting, buss off and take mans shit Bumper ting, bruk' off and tek' some dick She wants some more love Just take a man in Want some more love? Just take a man in Gyal must be licked if she thinks imma come to her crib To get caught up and then get nicked Don't forget, man got beef on your strip Don't forget, man got beef on your strip I done so much work on the low I'm only young, mixing a pyrex bowl Bussed the wap case and the Tridents know Justice ain't right, but the jury don't C.P.S. they know the justice ain't right, but the jury don't C.P.S. they know the justice ain't right, but the jury don't What you know about moving bookey? Confusing the angle, 'cause I'm unpredictable See this life that I live ain't fictional In the system, we're labelled as. "Criminal" All about money; don't care about beef But few of these yutes have doubts Don't care 'bout your name on street If you're on me, I'm cheffing you inside out And if I catch an M, I will fly out Poke-poke chef, soak til' that yute dries out If a boys got grub, then I will try out, sike Your boy got yakked then bounced, twice If I backed my shank on your friend Ask yourself, "Should I be chillin' with dem?" Bromley-by-hoe, give ten-out-of-ten And she sniff coke, let me give it to dem How could the feds try lock man for eighty hours and dat? Rhaatid, it's mad Whose that youte tryna move bare bad? And my music's up, 'cause my views went mad Bits get bagged, haffi' scale and lag And free all da guys, locked up in the can Bits get bagged, haffi' scale and lag And free all da guys, locked up in the can My babes-my babes, said I need rubber bands Got too much notes in cash But don't forget, man still gets paid in bands Can't wait til' the payment lands The way, the way that the phone just rang Got seven missed calls at 3am, and it's only a Benz, like damn Like, how can a man stress man? Whose got heart lemme turn that off Blood on creps, man burn that off You ain't done shit on the pitch like Berbatov Burn man off I got bagged and I learned a lot Chase racks, don't waste more time on a paigon block I switched plans, now I'm making prof These-, these niggas are bitches Bro got the 4-4 strong, Rambo long We're getting this done, fuck civilians Well I've been on your block with some niggas If I pop off the door, no-one vigilant Run out- Fuck; these niggas are innocent Surrounded by burners and shotties Next time drop of the dots to a Botty Lurk on your block wid' the mop Get anything opp, get popped (Bang it) Lurk on your block wid' the mop Get anything opp, get popped (Bang it) Lurk on your block wid' the mop Get anything opp, get popped (Bang it) Lurk on your block wid the mop Get anything opp get- (Buss it now) Lurk on your block wid' the mop Get anything opp, get popped (Bang it) Lurk on your block wid' the mop Get anything opp, get popped (Bang it) Lurk on your block wid' the mop Get anything opp, get popped (Bang it) Hmm Whats this dusty thing that your trappin'? Ain't no way this worthy of rapping Yeah, he got talk, but he ain't on backin' Rambo blade, reverse it, then whack him You can fly to my strip like Aladdin But one wrong deed? Kerlassin' Whose on volts? Attack him Stamp and did mans back in Too many opps keep talking smack My 9 clique made the grown men dash He tried spin, when he backed that mash Like, how comes your wasting cash? My guys, my guys are the last ones left But still tryna get man whacked Creep, creep on the low and attack We got slugs, nah my team never lack Lay low 'cause we're lurking lots Numerous blades, out to switch man off Can't even say too much on a track 'Cause the blocks too hot, it's time to get guap Heard that half of the streets on us But didn't know gang got the beaters tucked 'Cah anytime we see men, more time the heat get buss Still got to focus on clientele Push that buj, with the light as well Move brave, but I'm booters from jakes Racial abuse's what the Tridents yell