Cold Feet Freestyle

(Ah, ah) (My brother, my brother) (Yo, let me talk to them) (Yo, poor days, it was me and Old Wayne) ('Til I got my hands on a dinner like sorbet) (Couldn't write) Yo, poor days, it was me and Old Wayne 'Til I got my hands on a dinner like sorbet Couldn't write a 16, I turned my bid into a teen If that grub came from D-Wing then they got it off of me I put batteries in the back and make niggas slide She got Michael Kors then she definitely ain't mine As a young boy, I looked up to the dealers Still got buj residue up in between us I never came up flying, all them years I was grinding Been through more white girls than Love Island Buss it like A Jeweller, Bobby Swagger I'm the shooter Niggas be dreaming, I'm a doer I've still got the Narm, I'm still waiting on the karma Most of my niggas ain't ever met their fathers Stood up on that corner, can't step without my borer I just wanna make it home to my daughter Up and down them stairs, it took time, it took years White in that bowl, free Bez never started out rich But I always had the minerals Had a stick way before I had a provisional Pull up in that Roller courtesy of the yola You know how much time I lost like we ain't starting over Get rich or die trying, 50 Cent Crack in my nitty's den Got up and tried to bring all my niggas in Grub came from North, like Deep Green Spinning like a CD, with so much dirty, I need a deep clean Never had a plan, I was praying for a grand Wrapping dinners like Eminem and Stan Way before the drought came, I was in the O flooding towns mate Put on more niggas than Southgate Couldn't be a pop star, I was in the can like a Foster Me and Margz made more drinks than Costa Dirty and yola, came from so far But it was written for me Roald Dahl, most of my 20s in the pen Half the mashes with F Still I feel like Dappy, no regrets No regrets, no regrets, no regrets