Back 2 Back

(That's Chucks)
Thought it was go time, like, from the jump
(Emz Beats)

I link T on my just rap, you can blow shit
Still think I'm Boston George on my blow shit
My boy's in a SVR, but he stole it
I flew past with my wap, told him hold it
Man keep talkin' my name, they keep trollin'
When they're more pussy than the pussyoles they roll with
Can't be pillow talkin' in these streets, I disown him (yo)
Can't be talkin' about me, I kick doors in (check)

I link P on my jack jones in the morning
He was one up too 'cause we're staunch and they know this
My boys in a SRT, he didn't rent it
Took chase from the black bonnet and he bent it
I flew past the back of the estate to go and pick him up
I sent Cappy round there and told him, "Go and lift him up"
'Cause man keep chattin' man name, they keep cappin' it
But one, so now I keep it

I've been buying watches and guns, that's insurance
Runnin' this for ten years runnin', that's endurance
I ain't worried bout nobody, they're all jokers
Like I ain't been steppin' with hammers and big boarers
Standin' on strip corners, scammers and extorters
Came too far to be standing with informers
Talk 'bout the money and then it just gets awkward
Talk 'bout the duppies and then it just gets awkward again (yo)

I've been buying crypto and pounds, that's investing
Buyin' great Cali and Cane, this ain't wrestling
Big dogs, stepped on the steppers when we stepped in
Get money out of houses and lofts, its interesting
I've been rollin' round with some farmers, but they ain't got shotties
Know some man that turned into nitties because they got bodies
Growin' like we're in the cartel, but we don't crop poppies
Clippin' off the noses of dog, call it chopped rotties

For the judge and the jury, this is entertainment
You can't be lockin' up rappers for your entertainment
I paid tax three years, never missed a payment
I'm from the mud, somehow I'm sophisticated
Might fly to a gallery and grip a painting
Used to sleep on floors, I don't need persuading
Now mummy got a CC purse with suede in
But bitch, I'd rather be rich than famous

'Cause bitch, I'd rather be rich than famous
Got stitched by the pigs and it hit the papers
Snitch boys in the ends, gotta ditch the haters
All rats must die with a suit from Slaters
Have you straight on the wing screamin' free the strikers
Mornin' soc' on the yard, burpees with lifers
Fifty pound for a bug head, you should see the prices
If you've never hit the block, then you ain't seen a crisis