If you don’t get money, you’ll suffer
We don’t take bad up, them boy there good
Don’t get it confused cah they got their hood up
The beef ting’s borin’, I just want mula
My French ting said, “Do a song with Booba”
Fifty-pointer, they look like booga
Them man, their jewels ain’t real, they’re poop-ass, huh
Remember I told shorty we’re gonna link that day and got stood up
You say that you’re on me, I beg man pull up
I hate when they talk ’bout the T, only grams of the white that you seen is sugar
Bad one smilin’ at me in the club, but I want the one with the face all push-up
I like girls that aren’t interested, I’ve never spent one pound on a hooker
Eatin’ good, but I still ain’t full up, I’m tryna get my belly big like Buddha
A1, he’s a full-time jugger, put it on pause cah he just went jummah
Go OT and it look like we’re campin’, rambo knife and a portable cooker
Woulda took man’s girl, but she ain’t my standard, so my lil’ broski took her
They coulda, shoulda, woulda
It sounds good, but they won’t though, will they?
One dread in the T like Booker
How you a Ras, but you’re smokin’ Coh’ba?
I went school with Mohammed, Abdullah
I know about xabsi, lacag iyo naas, bariis iyo hilib, I shout out hooyo
Lord, forgive us as I’m a sinner, repent and pray you accept our sunnah
Warya, warya, xabad and a guri
I love man, but I don’t trust man fully
I see through them and I don’t feel threatened
They got on a bally and put up their hoodie
It don’t feel real when I say, “Free Mukky”
I’ll be sixty when my broski lands
We don’t take bad up, we don’t get bullied
Them man there pussy, they roll like—
Big G-Wagon, your girlfriend pass
Passy, playin’ some Frank Sinatra
Look at the stars, I’m playin’ some jazz
Bro came back bald cah he came from Hajj
Bro came back bolo, he came from can
It’s mad cah I just came back from Cannes
If we see one of them, khalas
They can’t come back to my hood, got banned
W’s up like Wu-Tang Clan
It’s a West Side story, Tupac, thug life
Prove that then if you’re bad, let one fly
Once I ran, but I learnt now
One-by-one, I’ma get man done right
Boom, bye bye, no knife, it’s gun fight
In the bando, I slept with one eye
Now I’m on Bondi Beach, it’s sunrise
A man like me, I’m hard to come by
I made M’s off rap, I’m stable
I done it, no label, when I was unsigned
On sight, man, it could still go left
Get cheffed like breakfast, dinner or lunchtime
Where the demand is, I’m gonna supply
I watched Slumdog Millionaire and relate to the kid from Mumbai
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