[Verse 1]

Yo

Everyone's trappin' and everyone's shootin'

Fake rappers sound real, it's confusing

Three things in common, let me go through them

We rap, we're alive and we're all only human

Most of these rappers are a mystery

Done a background check, no history

But they got a friend that's official on the roads

So they write about him and tell his story

Then they blow off a cap like a knee shot

They ain't never sat in no trap by the sea shore

Bagging up packs 'til the feds kick the door

Now you're running for your life, hearing seagulls and nee naws

I trap but this shit's done, bats or a brick shot

That's me and Shrimpos, strapped in the ding dong

Pack man and dip off, I'm actually pissed off

'Cause bro got bagged in a big crop

Now it's free 'em up until it's spelled backwards

Why you tryna go back to your ex, that's backwards

I'm strictly movin' forward in my life, not backwards

Where I'm from its evol, like love spelled backwards

(Now it's free 'em up until it's spelled backwards

Why you tryna go back to your ex, that's backwards

I'm strictly movin' forward in my life, not backwards

Where I'm from its evol, like love spelled backwards)

[Verse 2]

Yo

They look at my life, they think it looks nice

But it's been far from easy

I remember them days, I remember them nights

I starved, when mum couldn't feed me

So I went out and got it

I went and took risks and made somethin' from nothin'

When I made my first tenner with Joey back then

We just both fell in love with the hustle

It's been a long road on the streets bruv

It's been a lot of ups and downs

Used to show a lot of man love in my hood blud

But they never showed me love back

They took my kindness for weakness

So bruddas got dropped out and put on the bench

And I earned my respect 'cause the work that I put in

You earned your respect 'cause you're pushin' a Benz

That's a joke, the feds took my brother off road

And the judge gave eighteen years for a move

Only God knows how he copes

But I ain't been tryna get in beef in the streets blud

I just been tryna get money

But he dissed my brudda, so he dissed me

So I'va get the drop off and bun him

I cut a crop the feds runnin'

I cut a crop the feds runnin'

I had to bolt out the back door, jump the fence

I had to guard on a bucket of jargon[?]

And I'm gettin' away, but they're comin'

And I'm gettin' away, but they're comin'

I'm three miles away from the crime scene

But that weren't far enough, I kept runnin'

And the amount of times I said "Fuck it."

The amount of times I said "Fuck it."

I keep showin' love, they don't show it back

So now I've had enough of all of that love shit

Right now I'm on some fuckery

Right now I'm on some crud

When you see me

Don't be puttin' out your fist tryna spud me

'Cause right now I ain't on spuds

Right now I'm on loading up guns

Take me to the shotters and plugs

Right now I'm on kicking off doors

Take me to the money and drugs

Them bruddas ain't puttin' in work

Them man are just runnin' their gums

You better have bullet proof skin

If you think you can run up on us