[Verse]

Listen I ain't ever ran no scams

Akhi I was shotting from a yout and watched my plans expand

Couple years on the hard grind, slanging chang

Ask all of my shottas, I turn grams to grands

I get them boxes of piff that man brang from Dam

And if you little kids getting out your pram with bang

So where your shooters at? Prick, I make my shooters clap

Banging out O's of the snow plus we move the wraps

We're getting dough on the low, we've got the food for cats

Forty dots left in the bag that I'm due to whack

Mum pissed I grew to trap

As far as my dad goes I never really knew the prat

Bringing back the truth and that

Tearing up the booth with facts

Now I'm in this music game

Watch what my motherfucking team are gonna do to rap

Pussy I am twenty now, you're rolling with plenty clowns

Shot in different boroughs while you ain't covered any ground

Roll through any town, fuck where your goons at

As far as the scene goes, most you rappers' tunes whack

And I was getting indro way before I slinged snow

Still I let the ting go, this is just the intro

In the whip, getting crazy head from a bimbo

Kicking back, blowing grade smoke out the window

I just blaze the sess, hoping to escape my stress

You never know today could be the last

Fucking day you ever take a breath

I don't even need the mash, I'll poke him with this blade to death

Long road I'm running down, still I ain't made it yet

Sitting in the station pissed, thinking how I make a mess

My little brudda saved my life when jakes tried to raid my nest

You're fucking with some major vets who raise the TEC's

When it's on it's nothing long

Cause my brothers know they owe me major debts

No need for major threats, I just set him up with this major sket

Fake address, I don't need to state the rest

Pussy this is Pak's flow, we're living in a crack zone

My little youngers cat crow, I'm stunting in my black Stone

Rolling on my Jack Jones

When I was out here broke, tryna pick my line up

You was tryna jack phones

Buzzing when I mack hoes, gotta hit the roads again

Distribute the pen, it's so rarely that my cats smoke

You're just another rap clone

Fronting like you're hard in your bars

But you've never put something in a pack though

Fam I slipped once but I bounced back

Count stacks, sort you out eight niff of ounce akh

Man are hungry in South, fam I'm on a low

And I'm paro cause there's bare undies about

All I see is nuff feds, nuff blocked, nuff dead

Still I'm on the block getting rid of nuff dots, mashing up Z's

Serving up them dust heads, bringing in nuff bread

Brudda I turn grams to grands and that's enough said