Mozambique (feat. Jaykae & Moonchild Sanelly)

Umnqundu wamapolisa sana Ndithe umnqundu wamapolisa Yo, what's wrong with these neeks Man can't tell me about these streets Man never grew up near no damn beach Mans got shooters from Mozambique Shoot off nose and beak So you lot roll in peace But if you got somethin' to say Do not hold in, please They say death comes in trois So I do not roll in threes Are you lot dying to piss 'Cause you look like you're holding Ps Pull up, pull up, stolen jeep Hood up, hood up, phone the police Push up your boat and bleed I heard they cook up the coke and leave Man's going in there now I'm just up the road indeed I-I swear I search everywhere Like I'm looking for phone and keys Knife in the wind Poke and breeze Wish your girl never saw that Poor Candice Four man deep One felt froggy, they saw man leap Run, tell donnie and crawl back, weep All that week Oh, that's weak Hole in your brain You ain't gotta thought that deep Man think I'm missing the drop What, I caught that clean I don't know bro, I don't know Speak the streets, bro Only way, dawg Cops don't know, pay the streets dough Sell some real green dope Sell some real green dope Make some real mean dough Make some real mean dough I don't know bro, I don't know Speak the streets, bro Only way dawg Cops don't know, pay the streets dough Sell some real green dope Sell some real green dope Make some real mean dough Make some real mean dough What's wrong with these man Can't tell me about 28 gram Grew up on curry and rice, not ham Man have got shooters from Pakistan Shoot-shoot off after your fam Rooftop like Taliban So let me give you lot some advice And stop stunting like Jackie Chan Yeah, they say you are what you eat And I still ain't been Hakkasan And ask them who started the beef I ain't slid round yet, that's the plan Roll up, stolen Megane Whole lot of smoke for your gang Folding notes in my hand Yeah I told him phone me up when it lands Yeah this beef's kobe, cut from Japan Hold uppercuts from my hand You can put me in the World Cup final And I'll throw headbutts like Zidane No ifs, buts, I'm the man Toolbox, loading the van Fam, all of this bullshit Just 'cause he owed him a grand Come through twenty man deep Silence, can't hear any man speak Nightmares, can't get any more sleep Forget those who got buried last week I keep things sweet On my table, I let every man eat And I wish I had a girl Who would let a man cheat I don't know bro, I don't know Speak the streets, bro Only way, dawg Cops don't know, pay the streets dough Sell some real green dope Sell some real green dope Make some real mean dough Make some real mean dough I don't know bro, I don't know Speak the streets, bro Only way dawg Cops don't know, pay the streets dough Sell some real green dope Sell some real green dope Make some real mean dough Make some real mean dough Yo, I'm in Birmingham Mina I'm from South Africa, hey Mandela Lomfana fun'ivisa ungqhelikaka And'na xesha lama simba wodwa Ndizomshiya, ndizomshiy' ephansi Kakade naleya ncanca iyasindwa yodwa Balls, zinzima Stared in the face of death Mandem told me I'm stupid So many years of breath Only been shot by Cupid Can't tell me about kuff kaff kweff You only hear them tings in music Round 'ere, take a wrong left Victim of a shooting What could they tell me about chef Like I ain't made food out of human Like man ain't looked in my grill And I ain't had to barbeque them What can they tell me about crack Ask Danny and Susan What can they tell me about trap Like I weren't trapped in this foolish illusion Feds never had no evi My man still got twenty They never found no body They don't know where it's buried Bad boys from the UK We don't drive no Chevys Can't call a foreign a foreign Unless it's a 'Rari like Balotelli's