[Verse 1: Stogie T]
Yeah
They call us rotten, but we the forgotten
Started from the...
Fuck you kidding, Stranded at the bottom
Where bullet wounds mark the rank of whoever's got em
Got Stabbed, see the stories on their tatted abdomen
Math not a problem
They grew up ’round the number and life don't add up to much
Dice in your palm if you lucky
Might get enough for some Nikes
Crackhead hit a lick and go pipe it
Some days you feel rich with 600
This isn't comfort
This is little shorty hustling
Barely got through Grade 6, he’s no accountant
But never fucked up the count
Do his drops to the boss like he in a job but never clocks out
[Chorus: Youngsta CPT]
Real recognize real
If looks could kill then I would be dead
I studied what the Gs Said
And started earning street cred
Watch out for the triggerman
He kill you over kilograms
If the dough gets low we sommar rob the pizza man
Bang Bang Bang
This is the numbers game
Your jewelry's fake bru
So I don't even want your chain
We looked up to you broer
What a fucking shame
The weak perish and the strong remains
Real recognize real
If looks could kill then I would be dead (X)
[Verse 2: Stogie T]
Youngsta said it's war in Lavender Hill
It's the same in Mitchells Plein, bystanders get killed
Crossfire and I'm stuck in between
Caught admiring the boss' allure
But sense something is ill
He seen trauma, he lives cautious
Lifestyle provided by more white than
Pravin Gordhan
We lose dudes to the code of arms
Loose screws in Hanover Park
Move with the older bras
They don't follow Tutu, this ain’t Noah’s ark
There's animals here that shoot you and pour a cup
But it’s all love
They share the last plate of snoek with you over lunch
Make wudu before sallat
[Chorus: Youngsta CPT]
Real recognize real
If looks could kill then i would be dead
I studied what the Gs Said
And started earning street cred
Watch out for the triggerman
He kill you over kilograms
If the dough gets low we sommar rob the pizze man
Bang Bang Bang
This is the numbers game
Your jewelry's fake bru
So I don't even want your chain
We looked up to you broer
What a fucking shame
The weak perish and the strong remain
Real recognize real
If looks could kill then i would be dead (X2)
[Verse 3]
Bro!
These kids floating in the streets with no hoverboards
Tyring to belong, hoping to be underlords
Canivores that handle beef with a salad fork
Ambidextrous they couldn't tell you right from wrong
Find their mums in a mansion
Cleaning someone’s floors
And their pops in a tavern
Drinking out of quartz
In and out of court
Cheap drugs filling up the void
Jacking tourist passport flip it for a score
They hit him with assault
Pollsmoor in the tronk
It's a long way from Queenstown to the nombor
We all torn Family on Opiates, sleep walking
Hope he wakes deep coffin homie late