Credits
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Rhys Nazzareno Bezzina
Songwriter
Lyrics
Uh, keep that little lunch money, babe
I hope you're comfortable
I'm screaming, fuck the feds, don't talk to constables
I come from the bottom, eating Lunchables
Maltese and Proud, Still I'm not in love with you
White platinum or the rose
Which one to choose
I was built from the dark like Bane
I can't lose
Sick made living
Come touch the crew
Talking about problems with the ops
I had a few
Silent straight after
Like where's the dog in you
Big grown man now
I got a lot to chew
They keep asking what's next
Drop something new
M said Rome weren't built in a day
That's the fucking clue
Three whips outside the crib
Control the cruise
Had so many baddie ten-tens
I need something new
One wife in the bloodline
My soul must choose
Stoic energy
I saved their life
But there's a lot to do
Couldn't afford Air Force Ones
Now we got lots of shoes
Take care of my family
Soon I'll throw a chew
Done so many things I regret
I was a cold dude
Now I send funds to mum
We ain't have no food
Now for music, not crime
I'm a make the news
Real rap living reason
That's the fucking truth
Yeah
Yeah
I said real rap living reason
That's the fucking truth
Shouts out
The gang
Ħajja Reali
I'm sick made living
Get it
Writer(s): Rhys Bezzina
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