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COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Troy Stevie Bowerbank
Troy Stevie Bowerbank
Songwriter

Texty

Flow is the best, could have guessed as such Football finesse, never lose my touch Flow, too much to handle Leave MC's in a lyrical tangle Click Clack, spray paint in the rucksack Defacing the place like vandal The big zoots, I be billing them Back my drinks and I keep refilling them SEES on the mic this riddim I'm killing them Ain't gonna stop til I reach one million pounds Keep my sh*t underground Turn the mixer up loud Cause man like Sam is in town (Oi) Tell your girl to calm down I got her so wet she might drown She can't handle my sound Nah She can't handle my (Who's that) She can't handle my (Oi who's that, who's that, who's that) She can't handle my Sound I wan flip it and stack my Ps Take an overnight overseas Weekend getaway, high degrees Work on my craft till I catch Z's (Banxz) I work hard on my craft me Ain't been a better man since annunaki Paved a new path, he Built it to last, the Aviator, Dark but soul Diwali Bruce Wayne flow, hit them with the Bududada (What?) Well spoken, southern with a country grammar (Okay?) Music needs food I'm coming with the manna No Mash, work hard and cook another banger One All in one I'm up next like Duggans son Freshman, XXSL From South London, can't you tell? (Banxz) If I don't answer the phone I'm working Trying to make bags, no Birkin Will the tune blow next week, uncertain Maybe this one might turn them Into a fan I am Devising a plan with the G called Sam Calculating like Cos and Tan Till our wallets and our yards are wham If I don't answer the phone I'm working Trying to make bags, no Birkin Will the tune blow next week, uncertain Maybe this one might turn them Into a fan I am Devising a plan with the G called Sam Calculating like Cos and Tan Till our wallets and our yards are wham Pesto pasta, mould on the ceiling Had to Rock the same outfit next evening Mask on, moving like bane with the breathing Beat so cold, using bars for heating I had to turn off the TV Update the CV Make them wanna see me Rise like smoke, summit Den of lions, Daniel, bun it When you meet a better me Keep the same energy Range is wide, have the pride of 10 of me Mad progress but they still don't care I protest cause I'm nearly there Buy my track, you can't buy my silence They try ride but they have no license They try Son, but I keep on shining Come hear Banxz and the bank aligning I said if I don't answer the phone I'm working I work too hard so I shoot my shot I hope this music ting works out F*ck a nine to 5 I ain't doing no job Them days making music in the Kitchen I put in the work so you know I won't flop Yeah you know I won't flop Cause I'm putting my all in You know I ain't falling I'm pulling from free They're letting me go Their calling me Jordan My N*ggas be ballin My Niggas be ballin Put in the work at what you deserve I'm putting my all in (Oi who's that, who's that, who's that) All in, all in No stalling Make grands rise There's no good morning (Banxz) Beats, bops and bed, I'm boring Chasing them Lincoln's no crawling Would get wisdom from sheiks Then right rhymes to motivate Get up, keep on, don't quit Press record and make a hit Troy Banxz flowing on the beat again They wanna hear the beast from the south east again You wanna have a holiday off? It's Easter then And if I wife a chick she has to be at least a ten (Who's that, who's that) (Banxz) Oi whos that? (Banxz) You knew that (La) Bh on the map, we do that (Mad stress) Mad stress? I'm not trying to go through that (Okay) Rise and grind and build, let's do that (Let's do that) If I don't answer the phone I'm working Trying to make bags, no Birkin Will the tune blow next week, uncertain Maybe this one might turn them Into a fan I am Devising a plan with the G called Sam Calculating like Cos and Tan Till our wallets and our yards are wham If I don't answer the phone I'm working Trying to make bags, no Birkin Will the tune blow next week, uncertain Maybe this one might turn them Into a fan I am Devising a plan with the G called Sam Calculating like Cos and Tan Till our wallets and our yards are wham
Writer(s): Troy Bowerbank Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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