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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Potter Payper
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jamel Bousbaa
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Bigzy
Producer
Chucks
Engineer
Lyrics
Two phones ringin', that's three a day
.44 in my right pocket, no DNA
Five-day shootin', word, I shoulda got a VMA
PP I been getting paid since EMA
I had my back against the wall, I couldn't beat my case
And I ain't rap rich, I'm gettin' legal aid
Blind eyes could look at me and see my pain
Talkin to Kevin up in heaven, look what we became
I just know along the way I lost my way
I just know that tables turn and people change
I had to sit back for a second, just pree' the game
I seen pussy's selling like it's midnight on Ilford Lane
Meanwhile, real g's up the road, life goin' down the drain
Shit it's such a fucking shame
Now I'm lookin' at my daughter through this picture frame
God let me go, I swear I'll never sell that shit again
Who's eatin'? Where? Quick, let me fix a plate
'Cause rap ain't paying me back like when you tick your mate
And now I'm getting sentenced when they fix a date
Prayin' for a 6-8, praying it's a little late
But, it's fucked how I just outgrew this place
And I know I got that, "I would never do this" face
All my goonish ways, troubled from my youthful days
Make me have to roll with a shh incase
Cah, I always gotta worry bout the payback
Some punk that I roughed up way back
You catch a stray shot, never lick a stray cat
'Cause that's a dumb case, I can't rate that
The sky still grey black
Cah my schoolfriends a cat
And my dargs in a A-Cat
And real love you can't replace that
So pass the liquor, I don't chase that
Shit
In 016', I was Gucci with the face tatt'
In my hood, my hood, like Ray BLK
I'm something like Elvis in Graceland
A man talk more than bitches, but never page man
Still growing, I ain't the same man I used to be
I'm tryna stick around and let my family get used to me
I'm on the phone like, "tell the mandem build a booth for me"
It don't excite me g, the road ain't new to me
Jail ain't new to me
Poverty and struggle ain't new to me
Get rich or get recalled what it's due to be, truthfully
And I got this suttin' on me like it's glued to me
Certified, I don't need no young buck to shoot for me
She wanna tatt' my name and have a yute for me
She can suck a dick and roll a zoot for me
And put this duffle bag in the boot for me
No disrespect, but I can't miss these cheques
And I can't miss my daughter, I fucking hate these feds
So quick left, right, left
And we don't we do red lights
AB behind the wheel you know them feds got left
Like somewhere on Barking Road
We on the A13 just laughing loads
And with these thoughts in my head
I was in my cell sleeping in my clothes, 'cause my windows don't close
And the drafts so cold
But at least I got cold milk
Wins and losses, I embrace both
Shit I wish I had a pound for every day I spent
Every tear I shed
Every time I bled
Banged up, what's good? It's dead
Should be on stage instead
I'm in a cage instead
Should be love but it's hate instead
And I done done the realest of things with the fakest friends
I been trapping so long it ain't making sense
So you better bring the butter if you're breaking bread
And you better have fire if you burn this bridge
Cah even mummy knows he made his bed
When I was young I was easily led
And I never had no peace in my head
This a piece of my mind now
Tell me what you see
I see a G on the edge
All alone in the seg'
I get on my prayer mat and I beg
God forgive my sins
God protect my kin
God who can I trust?
Not her, not him
God bless him if I ever got the work off him
.38 spinner, two 9's on spin
I fire colour from these phones like I'm paintballin'
Writer(s): Andre Williams, Ebon Thomas Jr, Potter Payper
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