Testo Free the Guys - Kwengface feat. D Skeng, Trizzac, PS Hitsquad, Snoop & D Squeezo
Testo della canzone Free the Guys (Kwengface feat. D Skeng, Trizzac, PS Hitsquad, Snoop & D Squeezo), tratta dall'album The Memoir
Yeah, grrah
Pants sagging, black flagging
P's up 'til I freeze up
Zone shit, no O shit
O shit, some PB shit
Black flagging, who the fuck the mandem?
Free the guys, free the guys
Free BSK
Free MD, man
How them man still doing this net ting
When they ain't got bikes for their bredrins?
Pushbike trips with a stick in my pocket
You know I got the maddest intentions
Caught a yute in Dodds and I crashed off the mash
Yeah, I really try slap off his melon
Anyone that we're catching, we're switching him off
If you ain't with that, you ain't stepping
Bro try ask me if I'm riding
I shook my head, is that even a question?
Me and Kweng step out, two waps, two wetters
Cornman do me and jeff him
Both hands on when I press that nine
Bro said he wants to up that crime rate again
And it's like he just read my mind
(It's like he just read my mind)
Hop out the ride, man wap it
Spent six racks on an automatic
This new shaped coupe is an automatic
Fly out the ride and crash it
I'm waving my stick like Potter
But nah, my slime, I ain't doing up magic
Pull up, hop out, bang it
Between me and Max, that's life if I slap him
Free Trizz, I can't even lie, that's team No Lackin'
R1, putting some rams in your hat
Yo, cattings will ruin your fashion
Hella crops of cookies
I ran up in all them rooms
SK, black on black, pop that smoke
I'm tryna shake the room
Like, mixtape, you know it's a madness
Whenever me and the opp boys link up
I'm with my GRM, daily
Tryna get them man twist up
Trizzla, you know me, G, I love mix up
This wap hold more teeth than a mix up
At fifteen, I was doing them stick ups
Splash his abs, he ain't gotta do sit ups
Pissed off, anytime I hit the wok to your block
Man roll, didn't come here to rock
I got this loaded Luger in a sock
Itching, itching to let that pop
Spinning, missing, we left them cops
Kitchen, twisting, and out them tops
Listen, wishing they open locks
Kicking, tripping, I hope they drop
Hella man got shit tangled
Took the shop, gotta wipe off my sandals
Gone over them sides, ain't no parking
I do drive-bys like someone got cancelled
Lean out the window, whole ting empty
I live in their head rent free
Word on the curb that they hate me
Probably, I showed up and bored up plenty
A lot of man talk on my name
And a lot of it sounding the same
Heard that they're plotting, I walk with it live
If somebody come, they'll be gone by tonight
Could be gone by the time that they think
Move like Bond, I'm more like Wick
I'm in a ding and I need me some tints
Cah I had a stick and my dog in my whip
I'm from the place where your mum says, "Don't go"
Zone, it's a no-go
Boy, you best listen to auntie
You might leave here with your head back solo
Thought that was an opp block
But, oh no, I'm in a ghost town like Felipe Lobos
Uh, groggy
Opps get sent to the gulag
Pissed 'cah they can't step back in the lobby
My side backstrap yutes for a hobby
Swing them sticks, score like hockey
We was in the Ville like Monopoly
Smooth criminal, we weren't doing it properly
Always hear that I'm out of life with my rhymes
So why ain't nobody fixing anomalies?
Look, I feel like a rockstar
Two sticks, henny and lobster
Me, I get too lit
Stupid, we really do this
How many shavings? How many shootings?
Did it in Russia, I'm Vladimir Putin
Bro just gave me the smokey, okey dokey
He wants me to twos him
I just try put him in blue skin
Four man in a 2.2
Two man in the front, two man in the backseat
If you get spot like acne
Stretch out my arm like I ordered a taxi
Charge like battery when I talk wassy
TLC, it was me and the passy
I just hang out the side of my best friend's ride
And ping 'til the ting turns sassy
Where do I start?
Shav got shot from the car, it's peak
Turnt him hell, my first road party
We were doing up GB street
We weren't playing no games
Your boy got brave
Then he got blazed and he met his grave
Attempted Ks, we caught fat pants at GB
And we left it dead
My ramsy tear, free Flesh
If I slap this handy boy, you're dead
EB ain't no shooter, he's a dickhead
He shot a white boy in the leg
These niggas are clowns, they do it for clout
I hop out the car and I'm chinging it down
Saw me an opp, spin it around
Aim for his hat, pinging it now
Credits
Writer(s): P.s., Dejon Prowse, X10, Andrew Mansaray, Ninian Martin Agyemang Fosu, D Skeng, Karma (zone 2), D Squeeze
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