Sindhu Sesh

Old school but I still bust shots, I'm a Luger Mashed off the drink, so it's Uber Connected back home like a WiFi router Cats jumping like Puma And I dream like Martin Luther Fall asleep to the sound of the hoover Nightmare, Frederick Krueger Sleep with the fishes; now he's tuna I'm snatching his bird and thunder Tell me the target's 6 feet under He's at work so his house in country Case that joint then the place got plundered Don't talk about numbers In the UK, you know that they love us Don't care about colours Black or white, we can be brothers Breaking 'em down like the steps On the back of the box of the Crocker Bet he take that Bait, I'm just way too hard to trace Bas like pins in an haystack Weight, move that in and outside the gym They're tryna' get ripped I'm holding them sticks with extension clips I'm leaving him stiff on the ground get lit, like candles Wax him off with that bing from various angles Box, rectangle, dashed in the ground all bruised and mangled Grim, grab the cup, pass the gin Grab the lime, chopped it up Popped the cap, poured it in Just stepped out, I had to step in One of the young boys took a hook to chin The bouncer came out and he got weighed in Put the foot down on the clutch and spin Burn that rubber like I'm Michelin 5 star food that I dish to them Chef's hat on when I'm whipping in the kitchen Then I'm switch suits like I'm Mr Benn Ten ten gear I shift up to fifth Blues in the rear and I'm swerving the mains like Tokyo Drift Took a shot But he missed Then made love to the ground and kissed The curb, what's the word I dodged the case, so I flipped the bird Grabbed the bing, get back to work Then I'm switching lanes in a blacked out Merc I'll hurt 'em One thing's for sure and two thing's for certain Money gets made and the packs I'm serving He mess with the cake then I'll Battenberg him Kipling, missed him Run up in his house and gripped him Missus cried goodbye and kissed him Stuffed him in the boot of the Jag And then she watched us drive off in the distance Glistening Jewels on the watch on the wrist Get hit with the drip like a Christian Christening Jesus Christ And another of one them gets dipped like a Rich Tea biscuit Pulled up and the color of the suit Match color of the car, all black like Batman I'm a ninja, backflip handstand I'm a get ya slipping at your nans house One two, kick to the door like Knock Down Ginger Rip off the hinges Fingers get bent back like birds off Tinder Boys get flung out the window Come like wasps at a picnic, run up and sting ya Spin ya all the way round like ink rollers inside of an HP printer You better hope this bing don't jam What's the plan Stan? I knocked a man down And dropped the van round By the side of the flats So can you come down And clean the boot out I need to get back For the start of the match A couple cans in the chiller Man's quite big but the handgun's bigger Yeah, just stand and deliver You can throw fists but the mash bang quicker Crash bang wallop Big fat dollop Of cash in me hand Chain hang like bollocks Look you pillock Talking trollop Box a man back like I'm munching jollof God willing, I might just drill him Dings in my head from the scraps I've been in Go ten rounds with a man I'm winning I ain't gonna stop til the bell starts ringing D-d-dingaling ding on the fruit machine Spend the winnings on Gucci jeans Gaggle of the girls and they're super keen They wanna kick back 'cos the boots are clean Super Kings and a bottle of bourbon Let that rip when I'm whipping that German Grab that stick then I'm dipping and swerving Flick of the wrist and I left him gurning Roof top down I'm an head top turner Just stepped out in a fresh Ben Sherman Brand new tricks and I'm out here learning I'm an old dog still I'm out there serving I was locked in an HMP Cut from the rough, I'm a diamond geez Boot's full of them flat screen TVs Del Boy, Peckham, they recognise me Cha cha step in the dance and slide Two hands on me hips and glide If a man try to act too hard Then he'll get cemented, builder's site I'll open up his ears if he didn't quite hear me Your man got shelled on; Big Bang Theory If he wanna get loud and he wanna get lairy Then it's back of me man's head, hairy Nah son, you don't wanna bop get stepped on Crept up, cone get split like Chevron Wake up son 'cos we're the most slept on Get gone, war then I'm chucking that vest on One more word and I'm bringing them bings out Nuts and bolts and a couple more things out Dust and dirt if he's talking trash then I Turn and skirt and I'm taking them bins out Bin man, get wrapped up in a bin bag Been there, done that, got that Blood on my t-shirt, rinsed and washed and spun that Box of the corn just packed in a bumbag Popped with the red dot, rib shot, punch bag Pull up outside, cannon on me like Gundam Sub-machine gun, tell a man "run that" Chavving his jewels then I'm off to his mum's house