Lifestyle
(You know what I'm sayin', like?)
Dusty air in the studio, innit?
(Yeah man, but what's droppin'? What's droppin'?)
Somethin' hard for us man, doin' this for you bro, for us, innit man?
(Yeah, man, yeah, man, I'll be home with a bird)
(Soon enough before you know it, innit?)
That's it, how long have you got left, bruv?
(Seven years left, bruv, capped before that, final)
That's it man, it's minor to us man (minor for the world)
You know that bro, you know I love you man
I'm gonna make this music for us, bro
Promise you man, I'm gonna do it, bruv
(Yeah man, lookin' forward)
You know that bruv, man, hold it down in there bruv, yeah?
Different lifestyle, crazy feeling
Three months ago I was in a cell freezing
Three years, eight months, I've just been in
Out and out lovin' life, it's like I'm dreamin'
AP with my bird, big bed I sleep in
Lookin' at her makin' dinner, never thought I'd see this
She waited all the way, she's the realest
To get that respect, a lot of shit she had to deal with
Hundreds of miles so I could get weed in
Big matics in the car, real shit
Hide around the corner while I peel kids
Remmy said you're hard but bro, start vibesin'
Told him I can't rap about nice shit
Every time I'm writin' it's violent, the flashbacks are vibrant
Slap grass, got bagged, in a cell, silent
Screws runnin' in for my phone and I'm fightin'
Comin' out of jail through these shootings on licence
Robbed half my town, can't get consignment
I ain't gotta rap about ridin'
The whole city knows the missus that I did
I done drill before drills, I ain't lyin'
I got busy in a bando, then I went jail, got busy on a Zanco
Turnt two quid to a 60 bag stack, bro
Tick to my nine, he tried to put me before that coke
So I sent 'em 'round there bangin' at his mum's home
Street lights, jail lights, bro, you know how that goes
Done four years and I still had my graft phone
So I could look after my bird and get my mack, though
Ten jails deep, on a mission like Rambo
Always had it nice anywhere that I land, no
Every visit that I had, I grab back and grab phone
I ain't sendin' kids to do a man's job
I get hands-on, go and ask them rats that I land on
Banged on, stabbed and stamped on (stamped on)
Fuck life, I never had one, back out of jail on a mad one
My class strong, straps long (straps long)
Bag some black johns
Fuck life, I never had one, back out of jail on a mad one
24/7 on these mad curves
Rob a rith and agg birds, rob guys, bag work
Raw fuckin' hungry like those kids on the adverts
Blowin' through the red lights, tryna lose the blue ones
100 miles an hour with the tunes on
Six and half years, the judge give me too long
Lived in 15 prisons, man I'm too strong
I roll with hyenas, every day struggle BIG in the speakers
I'm known for draggin' dealers out of Bimmers
I'm known for slappin' birds in steamers
Runnin' in homes, flew beaters
Get my shottie out of one, smither or tweezers
Buy bare things even though I don't need 'em
My only problem is, where the fuck can I keep 'em?
Since a young age been striped like Adidas
If money doesn't grow on trees, tell me what the haze is
We're the baitest, police know our faces
Car chases, them council estate kids
They put my face on the front page of the papers
And I was broke, man, I had to make changes
Had to slap raises fast, whips get plated
Tracksuits and trainers to the boot-ons and blazers
Fuck tailors, seein' too many cages
I ain't sendin' kids to do a man's job
I get hands-on, go and ask them rats that I land on
Banged on, stabbed and stamped on (stamped on)
Fuck life, I never had one, back out of jail on a mad one
My class strong, straps long (straps long)
Bag some black johns
Fuck life, I never had one, back out of jail on a mad one
Dusty air in the studio, innit?
(Yeah man, but what's droppin'? What's droppin'?)
Somethin' hard for us man, doin' this for you bro, for us, innit man?
(Yeah, man, yeah, man, I'll be home with a bird)
(Soon enough before you know it, innit?)
That's it, how long have you got left, bruv?
(Seven years left, bruv, capped before that, final)
That's it man, it's minor to us man (minor for the world)
You know that bro, you know I love you man
I'm gonna make this music for us, bro
Promise you man, I'm gonna do it, bruv
(Yeah man, lookin' forward)
You know that bruv, man, hold it down in there bruv, yeah?
Different lifestyle, crazy feeling
Three months ago I was in a cell freezing
Three years, eight months, I've just been in
Out and out lovin' life, it's like I'm dreamin'
AP with my bird, big bed I sleep in
Lookin' at her makin' dinner, never thought I'd see this
She waited all the way, she's the realest
To get that respect, a lot of shit she had to deal with
Hundreds of miles so I could get weed in
Big matics in the car, real shit
Hide around the corner while I peel kids
Remmy said you're hard but bro, start vibesin'
Told him I can't rap about nice shit
Every time I'm writin' it's violent, the flashbacks are vibrant
Slap grass, got bagged, in a cell, silent
Screws runnin' in for my phone and I'm fightin'
Comin' out of jail through these shootings on licence
Robbed half my town, can't get consignment
I ain't gotta rap about ridin'
The whole city knows the missus that I did
I done drill before drills, I ain't lyin'
I got busy in a bando, then I went jail, got busy on a Zanco
Turnt two quid to a 60 bag stack, bro
Tick to my nine, he tried to put me before that coke
So I sent 'em 'round there bangin' at his mum's home
Street lights, jail lights, bro, you know how that goes
Done four years and I still had my graft phone
So I could look after my bird and get my mack, though
Ten jails deep, on a mission like Rambo
Always had it nice anywhere that I land, no
Every visit that I had, I grab back and grab phone
I ain't sendin' kids to do a man's job
I get hands-on, go and ask them rats that I land on
Banged on, stabbed and stamped on (stamped on)
Fuck life, I never had one, back out of jail on a mad one
My class strong, straps long (straps long)
Bag some black johns
Fuck life, I never had one, back out of jail on a mad one
24/7 on these mad curves
Rob a rith and agg birds, rob guys, bag work
Raw fuckin' hungry like those kids on the adverts
Blowin' through the red lights, tryna lose the blue ones
100 miles an hour with the tunes on
Six and half years, the judge give me too long
Lived in 15 prisons, man I'm too strong
I roll with hyenas, every day struggle BIG in the speakers
I'm known for draggin' dealers out of Bimmers
I'm known for slappin' birds in steamers
Runnin' in homes, flew beaters
Get my shottie out of one, smither or tweezers
Buy bare things even though I don't need 'em
My only problem is, where the fuck can I keep 'em?
Since a young age been striped like Adidas
If money doesn't grow on trees, tell me what the haze is
We're the baitest, police know our faces
Car chases, them council estate kids
They put my face on the front page of the papers
And I was broke, man, I had to make changes
Had to slap raises fast, whips get plated
Tracksuits and trainers to the boot-ons and blazers
Fuck tailors, seein' too many cages
I ain't sendin' kids to do a man's job
I get hands-on, go and ask them rats that I land on
Banged on, stabbed and stamped on (stamped on)
Fuck life, I never had one, back out of jail on a mad one
My class strong, straps long (straps long)
Bag some black johns
Fuck life, I never had one, back out of jail on a mad one
Credits
Writer(s): Elvis Jordan
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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