[Intro: Y.CB]
K6
Can't believe that I'm beefing *****, writing statements, that nigga's mistaken
My teams established, rated, most hated in the hood, it's blatant
Get round there, it's vacant
Frustrated, 'cause I really wanna tape it
They act for then net but shit gets ments when we flip the script like we're pages
[Verse 1: Yanko]
If I step round there with the turner
I pray they don't sing like Tina
Free Vandoe, locked for the murder
Shh got hit by the front of the Beamer
Three man dropped, so the paigons teamed up
They all still blow like Tulisa
We don't see gun smoke in the Ga7a, unless it's us tryna test our beaters
We eat up the beef like burgers
Saw five guys now they're covered in sauce
My niggas are akhi, don't fuck with pork
How could the pigs try get 'em to talk?
Fat boy was on life support but really and truly he should've turned corpse
I'm Blackwater of course, before Ford squad we was hopping out Fords
We score goals on all of these gems
Kiz in the field like Zenit
He ain't tryna play no footy
He's corning man with all these pellets
I wanna beat this wap more than her
Now this beanie's getting jealous
Ran up on them and they tried exit
Then he left red like it's that time of the month for a bitch
Free Reeko, he's a trapper
Could've built a house with all of these bricks
Forest Gate, that's my fucking strip
The opps don't come, they know it's a slip
Bucked that brudda at Dixy
Wanted to eat but he ate my ching
He wanted to eat but he ate my ching
[Verse 2: Y.CB]
They do it for the Snap and views
I'm different, I do it 'cause I got my Bruce
Back out my blade, ching down my man
They think it's Steg, they don't know who's who
Back that strap then blaze, fry man
Tell bro "make sure you twos that yute"
Rise that stick when the street needs cleaning
The pigs know this ain't no average broom
This ain't no average broom
Dottys and handtings all spill juice
I spy on them, then leave no clues
Do it in twos when shh got chinged
Hold up, let me not chat too loose
Custom juice got spilt, it's blatant
HMP, that's plugs in faces
Riding basic's got man mad, facts
I pray that I buss them cases
No cap when we shoot at faces
Bro boot that MAC, better dodge that lace
If not, better sing them graces
Bro boot that MAC, better dodge that lace
If not, better sing them graces
How many times have we rid on paigons?
DY in the ride, that's satan
Can't believe that I'm beefing *****, writing statements, that nigga's mistaken
My teams established, rated, most hated in the hood, it's blatant
Get round there, it's vacant
Frustrated 'cause I really wanna tape it
They act for the net but shit gets ments when we flip the script like we're pages
[Verse 3: Yanko]
You're gonna look like you're pinning when we inject this metal in your veins
It was me, ZK and Stainez, I put Haribo's in the candy cane
Don’t get caught when you’re en route yard, 'cah, you’ll be en route grave
We're the reason your ends is flames
We're the reason you're taking chase
There's like four man pack, how the fuck could you be on chattings?
'Nuff times I saw ST splashing, splashing, swinging his yank erratic
In the field like Crystal Palace
All of the goals that happened
Match day we used to go to the 6 but we used to go House for target practice
Pull up, they all get smoked like Bensons
Ride for your friends, stop killing pedestrians
Gangs got straps like lesbians
Why you think I was on the wing like Lennon?
Melo's in jail still throwing up 7th
The judge just gave him a nine plus seven
If I stick man up broad day, I don't need credit, just snatch man's pendant
Thirty man ran from four and twenty peds cut from five
I was sixteen with a .32 on me
R said bang it if the paigons ride
I had the shiny bells inside
A year before I got grabbed with the 9
I had a nine times two in draws
The young boys active, letting 'em fly