Rat Ish

Oh, oh, oh, oh (Grrah, grrah, grrah, grrah)

Oh, oh, oh, oh (Grrah, grrah)

I ain't with the rat shit, oh, no, oh, no

The type to pop shit when it come to hunnas

I'm not no cop, I really hop under the covers

Stay fresh to death, so drippy, I might go and kill somethin'

Too late for all that other shit, uh, uh, uh

Need my chicken like Raising Cane's

I do it like Martin Payne

But I ain't with the funny shit, oh, no, no

I done pulled up on him, he like, "Oh, oh, oh"

****, just stop bitchin', ****, why you runnin'?

Just like Adam 22, you ain't got no jumper

This G-lock hit like lightning, this switchy hit like thunder

I let it rain on your parade, just bring umbrellas

And you got wings just like tether

Yeah, shit go, "La, la"

I knock them dreads all out your head, no, you not a Rasta

I keep a four-five all on my waist like Big Poppa

Ain't tell on nobody, I pop shit 'bout hunnas

Just know no rat shit ain't in me

I ain't with the rat shit, oh, no, oh, no

The type to pop shit when it come to hunnas

I'm not no cop, I really hop under the covers

Stay fresh to death, so drippy, I might go and kill somethin'

Too late for all that other shit, uh, uh, uh

Need my chicken like Raising Cane's

I do it like Martin Payne

But I ain't with the funny shit, oh, no, no (Grrah, grrah)

I done pulled up on him, he like, "Oh, oh, oh" (Grrah, grrah, grrah, grrah)

I'm still the same ****, put in pain, ****, I could never switch up on the gang

And I'm still the same ****, I can't change, ****, I'm just dyin' to switch up ways

You take shit on a bunny, ain't gettin' no money, but you wanna smile like this shit is a game

Every day, it get runny, we slide when it's sunny, I'm fuckin' your honey, then pass her to gang

Talk my shit to get paid, ****, different day, when I'm goin' up, gotta watch what I say

I don't gotta say, "Get 'em," brodie brain different, cross mine, someone gotta pay (Ooh, ayy)

Said, I'm EBK fully, these **** is pussy, I'm back on that timin', I'm everything K

Gotta move like a bully 'cause I'm feelin' moody, salute or shoot me 'cause I'll let it bang (Grrah, grrah, grrah)

I ain't with the rat shit, oh, no, oh, no

The type to pop shit when it come to hunnas

I'm not no cop, I really hop under the covers

Stay fresh to death, so drippy, I might go and kill somethin'

Too late for all that other shit, uh, uh, uh

Need my chicken like Raising Cane's

I do it like Martin Payne

But I ain't with the funny shit, oh, no, no

I done pulled up on him, he like, "Oh, oh, oh"

I done pulled up on him, oh, he got to running

Bullets got to dumping

You know

(East London Magician)