What’s a man really talking about?
Like I never used to be the f#cking talk of the town
Like I wasn’t mashing it up plus mashing it down
I come back around, everything’s changed up it’s dusty
n#gg#s sound rusty, it’s the weed it must be
Tings getting mad when I come up off my ban
f#ck getting ’em again, I’m pulling up in suttin crazy
I’m back, tell your bredrins I’m back
It’s been a likkle while since you heard me on a track
Now I’m spitting like a MAC, fully loaded like that
Plus my swagger locked, got it colour coded and that
Yeah I’m harder than the bricks used to build up your flats
Yeah I’m harder than the shots used to fill up your straps
Yeah I’m harder than the sh#t that’s underneath your doormat
I might stick around, we’ll see how it goes down
I’m living on the ground where the shit’s critical
I ain’t really got time to get lyrical
My lifestyle’s minimal, the rate that we’re living
I’ve got mad love for all my n#gg#s in the prison
I feel mad pain for all my n#gg#s that are missing
Down to this lifestyle that we’re living
No time for kissing
Only one that gets a kiss is my baby mother
My baby girl and my mother
You can’t kill my brother and think I won’t kill your mother
You must have got me mixed up with some other brudda
Ask my brudda, I used to throw tantrums
I was a wicked man from when I wore Pampers
I f#ck man up, where you think I got my name from?
It ain’t long for me to get your life gone
I’m pulling up in suttin black with no lights on
I’m sliding up to your spot like a python
And when I squeeze on my ting son your life’s gone
In other words it’s a wrap, call it a day
I lost a lot of sh#t, it happens at the wrong time
I lost my .45 and now I’ve lost my baby nine
And when I say lost I don’t mean I can’t find
I mean lost, I might have to serve a likkle time
So in the meantime I’m staying on the flipping grind
Flipping food anytime I can get my hands on it
If I get a runnings I can guarantee my man’s on it
We’re running up in that, we’re taking everything
Right now it’s anything is anything
Tell them c#ck sucking feds they ain’t scaring anything
Got me going harder on the roadside if anything
I’m just pissed about my semi ting
Got me sitting in my yard skunking and Hennying
Thinking “Shall I buy a f#cking nine bar of her#in and hit the road?”
Different line, different food, different postcodes
Or shall I stick to what I flipping know?
Buying five O’s, break it all down to twenty bones
Buy a one brick of skunk, mash it down, hit the roads
When my luck’s gonna stop, cuz I really don’t know
I’m just tryna make some more dough
I’m just tryna make some more paper paper
Graveyard shifting, I can go to sleep later
Feds wouldn’t see me even on their navigator
I might hand myself in when I’m done with making paper
Cah I’m still tryna fly out with my girl to Jamaica
Still tryna build some land back home in Ghana
I ain’t never been no boy in the corner
I’m still up in the middle of the dance with my burner
Man are gwarning like they’re harder than me
Why they gwarning like they’re harder than me
When it’s me that fathers them G?
They’re not harder than my Prada dem G
They’re not harder than my D&G, Armani and my Cartier see
They’re not up in these streets
They ain’t wrapping bandanas round guns
Tryna lift a couple man off their feet
So why they chatting to me?
No scraps, straight strapping you see
You see this gun on my waist? I’ll push it up in your face
You see the part in my head? I’ll lick off part of your head
I’ll turn a black yout red before I buss on his head
For how long now it’s been straight copper and lead
For how long now it’s been straight ducking a fed
But this year I might switch and start bucking a fed
When I was young I want a Benz so I copped a Benz
And if I want a Bimma then I’ll cop a Bimma, shot the Benz
And if you see me in a dinger dipping through the ends
You better make a call and tell the mandem “Come off the block”
Chop chop, it’s getting hot but the rain still pours though
Daylight, nightlight, we’re ripping up your torso
Daylight, nightlight, we’re getting money also
Never locking off my phone, I always want more dough
I’m always getting in a mad frame of mind
I’m still kinda pissed that I lost my .45
But I take it in my stride, still tryna duck and dive
Tryna stay alive, still billing up my line
I’m looking out for feds cah they’re tryna give me time
I’ll leave no evidence when I’m dealing with a crime
I ain’t sniffing on no line, straight high grade
Power plant cheese and lime, that’s what we’re dealing with
You see this big ting? I’ll make you hit the ceiling with it
You say your boy’s sicker, yo I’m gonna heal him with it
I’m gonna peel him with it, f#ck the ambulance
I’m gonna seal him with it, make the clip done out
And you can come retaliate, the shots never run out
My n#gg# Ismail would have cut a boy’s tongue out
I ain’t telling no lies, I’m straight telling the truth
I’ve seen sh#t in my youth I won’t say in the booth
I ain’t talking it cah nuff man are talking it
But they ain’t walking it, you might see me walk with it
But I don’t talk with it, I’ll whip it out and let it off
Never soft yo, hard like the bricks is
You little nerds are all soft like the b#tches
It’s been a while since I gave a man stitches
Cah nowadays yo it’s all about the ditches
Nowadays I’m tryna focus on my riches
I just had a daughter, another little princess
I really ain’t having it, God be my witness
We live the street life everyday, ask Inchez
Ask the roads if I ain’t on the road
Always stick to the codes, reload and explode
c#ck it back and then blow, never talk to the po
See me bunning on dro, I’ve got my music down low
Tryna talk on the phone, reasoning about dough
Reasoning about yo, ayo I can’t even say
They might put me away, you best stay out my way
I might go on a way and make some bullets spray
Make you call it a day, make you call it a night
Furthermore make you call it a life, this is the life we live
How much mad kinda crimes I’ve did
Now I’m tryna use my head, I’ve gotta feed my kids
Yo I ain’t running into yards for no crumbs and sticks
I be running up in yards for some pounds and bricks
I be running up in yards with some guns and tapes
Coming through to eat up all the cake, guns in your face
Gun on my waist when I go to a dance
I might need it, might not but f#ck taking a chance
And when I’m talking bout the sticks I ain’t talking a branch
It’s a stick that makes man have to dearly depart
It’s a stick that will rip man severely apart
Kill every pagan in their car, you see a top man
But on a different ting I’m out
I’m caught up in a drought so the shottas dem better mind out
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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Skrapz – Bad
Skrapz – M16
Skrapz Lyrics – Beat2Beatz HQ