Art of War (feat. Rv)

Yeah, they talking 'bout scores, yah

But these people ain't scoring

Now we keep it quiet

So they tell us we're boring

Little do they know

One fuck-up and we're kicking the door in

Yeah, it's the art of war

Bagged when I'm on my ones

Till I come with two or three

Fuck that, man, I'm comin' with four, yeah

It's the art of war, yeah

Still with the same dogs from a puppy

And never switch up, of course, yeah

It's the art of war

Opp boy still tryna get me

Feds just wanna arrest me

Tryna hit a mill like Heskey

My pockets can't ever be empty

I'm the Fresh Prince of Tottenham

Guess you **** are Geoffrey

M Huncho, RV and Headie

That's Neymar, Suárez and Messi

I'm puttin' work for my gunners

Now I feel like Seaman again

I'm just tryna get rich

They got me risking my freedom again

I scored points in the field

I can't wait for the season again

'Cause I got new beef

So it's gonna get seasoned again

That means you get slaughtered

When **** get peppered

I need P for a mortgage

So I got spots like a leopard

Wrist in a Pyrex bowl

Try know that I whippin' with tekkers

I'll ride that pole

Fuck five O, yeah, they took about eleven

Yeah, they talking 'bout scores

Yeah, but these people ain't scoring

Now we keep it quiet

So they tell us we're boring

Little do they know

One fuck-up and we're kicking the door in

Yeah, it's the art of war

Bagged when I'm on my ones

Till I come with two or three

Fuck that, man, I'm coming with four, yeah

It's the art of war, yeah

Still with the same dogs from a puppy

And never switch up, of course, yeah

It's the art of war

I don't care if bro's in the wrong

I can never left my friend

Three-two or the four-four long

I can never left that skeng

Every other day, it's ninety on the M

Every other day, I gotta left her ends

I been out here, tryna do right

How many times did I still go left?

Still do it for myself or do it for the gang

Do it for the 'cause

I got six in the spin-spin ting

There's no way that the skeng can pause

Seventeen, had a link for the a.m.

First time man try it, stored

I just had to finesse that or

Enemies and frenemies

There's only a few I can trust

I keep my eyes on the ball like a penalty

What you know about T-house setting?

It's nothin' but chicken and chips from Tennessee

That put me in Chelsea

This steak's just given me energy

Yeah, they talking 'bout scores, yah

But these people ain't scoring

Now we keep it quiet

So they tell us we're boring

Little do they know

One fuck-up and we're kicking the door in

Yeah, it's the art of war

Bagged when I'm on my ones

Till I come with two or three

Fuck that, man, I'll come with four, yeah

It's the art of war, yeah

Still with the same dogs from a puppy

And never switch up, of course, yeah

It's the art of war