Lyrics

My district has too much drillers Like who wants it? Like who wants war with Sydney's realest? They talk that talk on gas but them boys they ain't got no triggers They act like they in trenches but them boys ain't got no diggers Like Spot the Difference OneFour, we still active, we still earching If I ain't out there in the field cuz, then I guarantee I am working My crew still in the trap, flippin' packs, this and that Heard there's runners here in my hood How can they run lad, without tax? And if we're talking scores, hashtag facts Like who got robbed at Cat's? Try coming down on them trains lad You get sent home on them tracks J_EMZ took that triple out with a stick (Hoo, hoo) Jump out gang cuz and we smoked him like a spliff H-How can I call them opps? (Ay) How can I call them opps? (How can I?) They run off and leave their friends For dead, more like a bunch of dogs (Woof) No way I can be like them I got my bros like Drake & Josh (My brothers) And all this talk about smoke, how come none of my men been shot? Not one of my men been got Got no hesitation (none) I ride or die for my block (Of course) These critics claim that we fakin' it But won't live a day in my socks (No way) I was on the streets since fifteen tryna force a shiv on these opps Earching everyday on them dogs Like who really wants to get got? (Who?) Can't affiliate with a friend of an opp, that bridge gets burnt One them youngins took that trip and Phoned our line saying "Kill confirmed" (Ha ha) He was out for his stripes and on that Night, that villain's respect was earnt Now he's doing a stretch for the gang Can't wait for the day that he makes a return (Free him) Deacon Chef, he's a OneFour rider See him tryna make a dip like Tyga Like who's that opp on the block? Who's that five-foot shit? Lights up, uh We're them rowdy boys like proper Got a venomous bite, no viper See me leading the pack like a captain At the front of the field like a striker (Rah, rah) My district has too much drillers Like who wants it? Like who wants war with Sydney's realest? They talk that talk on gas but them boys they ain't got no triggers They act like they in trenches but them boys ain't got no diggers Like Spot the Difference My district has too much drillers (Too much) Like who wants it? Like who wants war with Sydney's realest? They talk that talk on gas but them boys they ain't got no triggers They act like they in trenches but them boys ain't got no diggers Like Spot the Difference Run through houses, kick down doors like Raptor Squad (Boom) They just talk backstage Bring cameras on, that's where these actors from They're not frontline, they're feline, they're pussies (Ha ha) But I just don mine, then rewind And push it (push it, push it, push it) We violent men, they talk too much, we silence them Quiet them And plus, this blade will take his life and minus them (Ride on them) They say this shit disgusting but I say we fuckin' love it Offsite we rush them, time and place The opps get got in public (Run it, run it) Marchin', like Russia's Spark it, no bluffin' Start it, for nothin' Run, run when you see us comin' (Nah) See I still remember, that day Freddy copped that whack (Free him) They took like fifteen boys to court and all of us got knocked back Yeah, back in the day was shanks And shivs but now we all got that strap Now I'm hitting the Mounty Bop on an opp as soon as I clock that back Opps, they burn when I'm on that track See I've been going OT on the streets as soon as I got set free Now my young Gs loose on the roads They runnin' amok like Assassin's Creed (Ching ching) They scream, "J_EM lad, do something, your boys are a different breed" Then out comes my name, like YP said Of course I'ma back my Gs (Of course) That side don't listen, ooh We took this drill thing serious Now look some of the opps gone missin' Like why do you think our faces are hidden? The gang's on strict conditions We come through militant Whole crew diligent, ready to back our district They hate our rude image They say my crew's British We pull up like "Who's with it?" Load that clip like grrrr, finish Been gone for two minutes Wait, wait lad, stop that car, gotta hit that gas when I let that slap DOOT, DOOT!
Writer(s): Jerome Misa, Spencer Magalogo, Pio Misa, Salec Su'a Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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