Bukayo Saka

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Lapgan (we're bar out)

Mansho, yeah (we're bar out)

Hollywood Heems, I live a wild life son

Keep me in touch with more birds than the wild life fund

I green light that red light like 1, 2, 3

I see your moves before you do, like Sun Soo see

So all you hear is blacka blacka, blacka blacka

If the rabbit cook for 24 hours at the macca

I'm with my Jewish friends, Russ and Daughters for the locker

Only right wing I acknowledge is Bukayo Saka

Sprinkle the cumin in my hoonin, I'm a goated human

Sliding how I'm moving, yo I'm a shooin'

I'm with your boo and, you get boo'd at

I'm like a saint when I spit, they asking who that

So don't say shit, you know you best serve me in silence

I roll with Nihilus and some stylists who get violent

Lamb ragu out in Long Island and we wildin'

Got Hindu jewelers on deck for all my diamonds

Gold chains and taco meat like carne asada

Kill a cop and dip your kuba, I'm in Oda like Asada

I'm the

Eric Estrada, us sonatas and some Prada

Whole enchilada, kill my cousin for the throne like in the Mahabharata

Mahabharat, I'm asking where the freaks at

I roll around with two glizzies like I'm Slavoj Zizek

I pull up with blades, big ones, like the Sikhs had

Your bar is weak, I peep that and I critique that

Where your mystique at? I eat squab with my mob

I'm at a college in Punjab, the casanova of the choir, the heartthrob

I'm in my Saab, watching Les Miserables

I'm a kebab snob, you fuck around and get robbed, uh

I got money out the wazoo, that's where the kajoo

Piece together modules of the verse because I got to

Watch me bag a princess like I'm Dodi Fayed

My codeine's lyin', we only riot 'til it's holy Zion

Get the baackroom at the restaurant because I'm holy private

I think I'm the shit but I admit I'm grossly biased

You use my name for clout, so on sight for that bozo

I ball like Ray for Alston in the 90s at Cardozo

I got belts in every color like I run a dojo

I'm a big dawg, you toto, you only so-so

I put dollars, rupees and pounds up in my coffer

Sippin' oolong out the cup with the saucer

The best author

Fuck around, I disappear, you like Hoffa

A-symmetric, plongé, leather from Stauffer

Suit from Campagna, third-genny artisans

They want that shit that's hard again

They glad I'm makin' art again

Pull my face card again and Prada for the cardigan

Asa fedida

What's that?

Asa defedida

What is it in Hindi?

King