M1OnTheBeatAyo, TwinTwo, this a bad boy beatTwo chains on me (Two, two)Smoke on bro, it ain’t on me (Turn)Turn him to a gunner, he ain’t Lundbjerg, he ain’t HenryBut it’s an unbeaten season, I’m feeling like Wenger in ’03I know them pop boys feel that they’re injury-prone, now they’re losing teammatesMiddle finger to the Trident, my young boy don’t know his release dateCome blook at the club, it’s frying, we ain’t coming out here with no trayLord know I feel like The WeekndI feel like The Weeknd, I look in thе mirror, it’s blinding lightsBaby said that when I step I’m clashingI wear too much icе with iceShe wanna step out, Cs are matchingGang wanna step out, GPs matchingDone the right thing and I twinned them CsAnd I twin them machinesWhen the opps wanna rain on me, AshantiI never dunked a paigon, he was civilian on my landingAnd something got drilled on a SundayCourse I ain’t know what happenedI was chilling in my gaff with gang demWas listening to Kirk Franklin (Turn, turn, turn, turn)Cah I trust in God and the way beamHarry B find the blocks and cartonShow the opps ’bout the four-door trucks and transitsJust free Bradz, Nige is back on sorting tacticsSummertime, out with the two-two, gladHving so much drip, it’s a water fountainTwo chains on me (Two, two)Smoke on bro, it ain’t on me (Turn)Turn him to a gunner, he ain’t Lundbjerg, he ain’t HenryBut it’s an unbeaten season, I’m feeling like Wenger in ’03
I know them pop boys feel that they’re injury-prone, now they’re losing teammatesMiddle finger to the Trident, my young boy don’t know his release dateCome blook at the club, it’s frying, we ain’t coming out here with no trayLord know I feel like The WeekndI feel like The Weeknd, that boy got drilled on the weekendOn Main Street, feds still knockingCan I’m still neck deep in the deep endLittle bro scratched it offCorona mask, no glazzy, don’t value his freedomHeard a shopkeeper was shockedBehind the till like Kel & KenanAll of this beef, we should be veganAll the opps, the manna like thievingBought that broom, manna want sweepingSome of these lucky they’re breathingHMP had a street ni**a readingBack then I was basicNow I’m sat at the BRITs, my suit tapered ad my fate tapered (Steady)I’m meant to be famousBut I still aim-zimma, who’s got the keys to the Bimmer?Pissed that I had to de.link this Insta modelShe was way too innaCan’t believe it was baguettes for dinnerUh, now there’s baguettes on m pinky fingerTwo chains on me (Two, two)Smoke on bro, it ain’t on me (Turn)Turn him to a gunner, he ain’t Lundbjerg, he ain’t HenryBut it’s an unbeaten season, I’m feeling like Wenger in ’03I know them pop boys feel that they’re injury-prone, now they’re losing teammatesMiddle finger to the Trident, my young boy don’t know his release dateCome blook at the club, it’s frying, we ain’t coming out here with no trayLord know I feel like The WeekndM1OnTheBeatAyo, TwinTwo, this a bad boy beat