Sindhu Sesh

Old school but I still bust shots, I'm a Luger
Mashed off the drink, so it's Uber
Connected back home like a WiFi router
Cats jumping like Puma
And I dream like Martin Luther
Fall asleep to the sound of the hoover
Nightmare, Frederick Krueger
Sleep with the fishes; now he's tuna

I'm snatching his bird and thunder
Tell me the target's 6 feet under
He's at work so his house in country
Case that joint then the place got plundered
Don't talk about numbers
In the UK, you know that they love us
Don't care about colours
Black or white, we can be brothers

Breaking 'em down like the steps
On the back of the box of the Crocker
Bet he take that
Bait, I'm just way too hard to trace
Bas like pins in an haystack
Weight, move that in and outside the gym
They're tryna' get ripped
I'm holding them sticks with extension clips
I'm leaving him stiff on the ground get lit, like candles

Wax him off with that bing from various angles
Box, rectangle, dashed in the ground all bruised and mangled
Grim, grab the cup, pass the gin
Grab the lime, chopped it up
Popped the cap, poured it in

Just stepped out, I had to step in
One of the young boys took a hook to chin
The bouncer came out and he got weighed in
Put the foot down on the clutch and spin
Burn that rubber like I'm Michelin
5 star food that I dish to them
Chef's hat on when I'm whipping in the kitchen
Then I'm switch suits like I'm Mr Benn

Ten ten gear I shift up to fifth
Blues in the rear and I'm swerving the mains like Tokyo Drift
Took a shot
But he missed
Then made love to the ground and kissed

The curb, what's the word
I dodged the case, so I flipped the bird
Grabbed the bing, get back to work
Then I'm switching lanes in a blacked out Merc

I'll hurt 'em
One thing's for sure and two thing's for certain
Money gets made and the packs I'm serving
He mess with the cake then I'll Battenberg him

Kipling, missed him
Run up in his house and gripped him
Missus cried goodbye and kissed him
Stuffed him in the boot of the Jag
And then she watched us drive off in the distance

Glistening
Jewels on the watch on the wrist
Get hit with the drip like a Christian Christening
Jesus Christ
And another of one them gets dipped like a Rich Tea biscuit

Pulled up and the color of the suit
Match color of the car, all black like Batman
I'm a ninja, backflip handstand
I'm a get ya slipping at your nans house

One two, kick to the door like Knock Down Ginger
Rip off the hinges
Fingers get bent back like birds off Tinder
Boys get flung out the window
Come like wasps at a picnic, run up and sting ya
Spin ya all the way round like ink rollers inside of an HP printer
You better hope this bing don't jam

What's the plan Stan?
I knocked a man down
And dropped the van round
By the side of the flats
So can you come down
And clean the boot out
I need to get back
For the start of the match

A couple cans in the chiller
Man's quite big but the handgun's bigger
Yeah, just stand and deliver
You can throw fists but the mash bang quicker

Crash bang wallop
Big fat dollop
Of cash in me hand
Chain hang like bollocks
Look you pillock
Talking trollop

Box a man back like I'm munching jollof
God willing, I might just drill him
Dings in my head from the scraps I've been in
Go ten rounds with a man I'm winning
I ain't gonna stop til the bell starts ringing

D-d-dingaling ding on the fruit machine
Spend the winnings on Gucci jeans
Gaggle of the girls and they're super keen
They wanna kick back 'cos the boots are clean
Super Kings and a bottle of bourbon
Let that rip when I'm whipping that German
Grab that stick then I'm dipping and swerving
Flick of the wrist and I left him gurning

Roof top down I'm an head top turner
Just stepped out in a fresh Ben Sherman

Brand new tricks and I'm out here learning
I'm an old dog still I'm out there serving

I was locked in an HMP
Cut from the rough, I'm a diamond geez

Boot's full of them flat screen TVs
Del Boy, Peckham, they recognise me

Cha cha step in the dance and slide
Two hands on me hips and glide
If a man try to act too hard
Then he'll get cemented, builder's site

I'll open up his ears if he didn't quite hear me
Your man got shelled on; Big Bang Theory
If he wanna get loud and he wanna get lairy
Then it's back of me man's head, hairy

Nah son, you don't wanna bop get stepped on
Crept up, cone get split like Chevron

Wake up son 'cos we're the most slept on
Get gone, war then I'm chucking that vest on

One more word and I'm bringing them bings out
Nuts and bolts and a couple more things out

Dust and dirt if he's talking trash then I
Turn and skirt and I'm taking them bins out

Bin man, get wrapped up in a bin bag
Been there, done that, got that

Blood on my t-shirt, rinsed and washed and spun that
Box of the corn just packed in a bumbag

Popped with the red dot, rib shot, punch bag
Pull up outside, cannon on me like Gundam

Sub-machine gun, tell a man "run that"
Chavving his jewels then I'm off to his mum's house