Songteksten

Yeah, yeah Jesus Christ Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (huh, huh, huh, huh) Mazzalean (mazzalean) When I'm pulling up, muddy dungarees (yeah, huh?) Make the place look like a murder scene (murder) Ayy, when I make moves, I'm a money fiend (money, yeah) Suicidal tendencies, what's up, man? (Bang, bang) Feel like I'm down, I say, "What's up?" Way too, way too, way too gully, give me money (give me it all) Cannot trust me, no one ever fuckin' buss me change (Buss me, buss me, buss me, buss me, buss me) Look how shit changed Feeling like these drugs made me better than I was But I never felt love before the drugs So, now I say, "What's up? What's up? What's up?" "What's up? What's up? What's up?", say, "What's up?" Failed to revert to my old ways Cricket tickets, stacks of cocaine Sticky fingers, shoplifters We got tools like Homebase Lift a finger, dug his own grave (yeah) Same, same with the same name (yeah) Closed case, red wine, no rosé Do genocide for the whole gang (gang, gang) You're telling lies, now I'm energised, I'm more precise Walk in, made a Big Bang (yeah) Propane with the Roxanne (brr) Gin and tonic, I'm a bigger topic (yeah) Bigger pocket, can't close my wallet (blah) Quicker blotting, like my name's Sonic Glass homes, we stone chucking Yeah, yeah, yeah Mazzalean (mazzalean) When I'm pulling up, muddy dungarees (yeah, huh?) Ayy, make the place look like a murder scene (murder) Ayy, when I make moves, I'm a money fiend (money, yeah) Ayy, make the place look like a murder scene Ayy, when I make moves, I'm a money fiend Olive, body shaped like a bottle Popeye off of spinach Pop a model 'til she wallow, uh Drop her toddler off, damn Light a flame, toss a Molotov Drop it off, then I Mazel Tov Pop a whole god-dang champagne bottle cork Still might find me in a mosh pit And I still ain't even corporate Walked in with who I work with (yeah) Yeah, run up on you while you're jogging Make you listen to my Walkman Mixtape shit, streams never seen Make a whole boat sink (yeah, listen, bitch) Watch all the hoes pay attention when I walk in (yeah) Stroll in like an old man (damn) Like I popped like four Xans (yeah) Niggas acting like close friends (yeah) Fame, don't even know mans (nah) Tell the kids I'm a grown man Pop two steps, slow dance (yeah) Woo, woo, woo Got jokes uptown, Harlem world New York like I'm Pop Smoke Riding 'round in the drop rolls Watching rats in the pot roast Finger polish with the top coat The bottom platinum but the top gold Bling, bling, that's a barcode Ring, ring, that's a smartphone Beep, beep, there your heart go Slowthai, here your part go Yeah, yeah, yeah Mazzalean (mazzalean) When I'm pulling up, muddy dungarees (yeah, huh?) Ayy, make the place look like a murder scene (murder) Ayy, when I make moves, I'm a money fiend (money, yeah) Different goals On the street, play different roles
Writer(s): Rakim Mayers, Kwes Darko, Tyrone Frampton, Samuel Castillano Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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