Pattern Gang

I'm a H.R.B., this is Pattern Gang

Had my young boys sliding around

With the joint, trying to pattern, man

I'm on the phone to the plug

And he told me he's gonna patent that

And, yeah, my white girl's back so big

I swear, I had to pat on that, I had to slap on that

We're swinging through these streets like some orangutans

These Balmain jeans I'm sport-en-ing cost a bag of sand

Them boys over there like to chatting off, they got bags of that

And if you're talking 'bout them cunch spots, I get bags of that

I'm whipping this yoler, I'm getting them whole

And they know that it's nothing to me

I'm sliding with bros and we had the poles

And them boys was cutting from we

Used to sleep on the mattress

Now look at this actress, she's ucking on me

I'm up in my spot, there's grub in my pot

And a dumpling on me

No mutton or fritters

I'm working, I'm running with whippers

They make a mistake, then we running the thing

You know I put trust in my ****

They say that I'm taking a piss

Pretty face and her waist is a myth

I'm cooling in Norbury, I'm making a flip

I'm Fredo, my chain is a sick

In upsuh, in upsuh, I'm lonely

Just made a half nine from a O.Z.

I'm smoking on amber, I'm dozy

I'm flashy, I still rob a boy for his Rollie

Not to mention we're screaming for Strody

Not to mention we're dealing them O.Z.'s

Givenchy, my sweater and dealing with Stoney

Got joints and them **** got Pocky's

I told you, I'm rolling with Brodie

Don't wanna see Sav when he's rolling off codeine

I'm rolling with all of my H.R.B.

So, my ****, you best not provoke me

You best not provoke me

You best not provoke me

My little ****, this is Pattern Gang

You best not provoke me

I'm a H.R.B., this is Pattern Gang

Had my young boys sliding around

With the joint, trying to pattern, man

I'm on the phone to the plug

And he told me he's gonna patent that

And, yeah, my white girl's back so big

I swear, I had to pat on that, I had to slap on that

We're swinging through these streets like some orangutans

These Balmain jeans I'm sport-en-ing cost a bag of sand

Them boys over there like to chatting off, they got bags of that

And if you're talking 'bout them cunch, I get bags of that

I gotta stay low, man

I'm hiding from Trident, they want me in jail

They like how I'm rhyming and styling

So labels, they want me as well

I'm still in the street, man, I swear, it's so hard just to balance it

'Cause I'm still up in my trap with a whole 36 trying to vanish it

This is Pattern shit, **** know me for sliding 'round

On the main road with the baddest bitch

Or letting yoyo cool out in my pot and hit it with the magic stick

You're taking a piss

You sold a lil' weed, that ain't taking a risk

Got a show, so I'm taking a stick

And if I plead guilty, I'm taking the six

You talk 'bout the trap

But I know for a fact you ain't breaking no bricks

When's the last time you taped off a strip?

I'm rolling with Mitchy, we're taking a trip

After this, broski take me to Bing's

And most week, man, I change up my SIM

Twenty grand, bro, that's just for my bling

And I ain't including my watch or my ring

They got my brothers locked

But they're soon home, we're gonna Pattern up

I just phoned bro, he ain't got it though

He's trying to Pattern stuff

My brothers know that I'll ride for them

And that's Pattern love

Every time we lose a joint know that bros are gonna Pattern up

I'm a H.R.B., this is Pattern Gang

Had my young boys sliding around

With the joint, trying to pattern, man

I'm on the phone to the plug

And he told me he's gonna patent that

And, yeah, my white girl's back so big

I swear, I had to pat on that, I had to slap on that

We're swinging through these streets like some orangutans

These Balmain jeans I'm sport-en-ing cost a bag of sand

Them boys over there like to chatting off, they got bags of that

And if you're talking 'bout them cunch spots, I get bags of that