Browns

Face on the watch got dipped in diamonds
Pull up the sleeve and a man got blinded
And I got rings mate, one on each finger
Ladies in the back of the car we're riding
Three day bender, big weekend
And I'm out here sippin' on London's finest
Six in the mornin', I'm off my noodle
Down in the club, that's where they find us

London boys stay scheming, hop out to fix my feelings
Drake, playing on the rental radio
Leaning ten pints down and I'm steaming
Easy geeza, how ya feeling? Nice to meet ya
I'm your local wheeler dealer
Herbs on my head like Julius Caesar
Italian beer and a stonе baked pizza

Wray and Nephew's all up in thе system
I just got my guns out and kissed 'em
Flex anytime, I'm swinging this chain
These rings and watch are dripping and glistening
Baby, baby, baby, yeah contain your thirst
I know you want me girl but look I'm a business man
And it just won't work

Mamacita, you know I see ya
Can you pick a bag and can you hold this heater
Ya got a nice smile like the Mona Lisa
You wanna be rich, I can be your teacher
Fridge and a freezer, the wrist gets colder
Ice on the watch like a blinking bolder
Nothing to stop time, I might get older
But I'm a veteran in the game, you're a soldier

Sun rays on the Ray-Ban shades
On a Sunday, fresh off the runway
Looking like I never sold shh in the alley
Back behind the flats midnight on a Monday
(Ohhh)
Bigger the man, bigger the dent they leave in the ground
When they get one-two d by the governor
Bigger the back, on that bird, then the bigger the chances
I'm asking that bird for the number

And I'm chilling with a bird in Browns
If you wanna bubble, like Bob said, simmer down
In the bureau de change, turning dollars into pounds
And I got a lot of money in the back of the transit van
So just scram if you're gonna talk smack
Puerto Rican girl sitting on my lap
Pork pie sitting on me head, that's a hat
And we got boys with the tools in the back (back)

In the back of the Beamer, got brain off a bird
Big bings in the boot, banging them when needed
Jesus
They know my name, my face and the place I'm from
You don't wanna get petered
Nah you don't wanna get Bas eithered
Nah you don't wanna get Bas heated
Nah, pull up with about ten boys in the back of the car
When you gets stampeded

Bald head
Fuck feds
And we get cash 'til the morning come
Your man got X'ed like an hot-cross bun
Whip out the bing and they run
I'm the man of the moment, gone in an instant
Dusted a victim, wrapped in a Rizla
Bas pass the light and spark this one



Credits
Writer(s): Barnaby Addison, Joel Currie, Jonathan Gibson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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