Testo Next Up - S3-E16 - Mixtape Madness feat. A92
Testo della canzone Next Up - S3-E16 (Mixtape Madness feat. A92), tratta dall'album Next Up - S3-E16 - Single
X-10
Ay CZR, you did a mazza still
Scratch mixed it
Get a metal to your face till bracelet growin' on match till you fell 'em right
010 in the field with a football, 015 in a field with a rambo
Ring, ring, ring, that's life in a bando
My trap phone love dance like tango
The Y-G's don't get no recess, call the oppboys love snitch like Randall
Just chopped up a four and a half, man's dishing out food like Nando's
They're trying to put me in a rizz, oh yeah you will alright
Two of them man nearly put in a spliff, let me show Y-G how to build that right
From a young age man's whippin' and lockin', whippin' and loss, till my wrist come tight
They know man's repping 9, I'm stuck in the trap with the green and white
You don't want war with us, 'cause you can be put on a shirt like a resin
I can't wait for the show so hope that I'll blow, so swimming and making punchlines like Tyson
And tell a boy, "don't like Bryson", slapping it off let it back like Bryan
I need me a queen like lining, so do what I say like Simon
You can savour the track, man I murdered this beat, when I rap, haha that's a TKO,
Give a man heart attack when I jump out the four door whip Demi Lovato,
'Til a man packed, I'm smoking the spliff till we're out of this world like a UFO
My exes never held my shank, had to cross them like tic-tac-toe
Nah, you don't need real eyes to realize that they tell real lies
Another man got hospitalized for the lies that he told on my A9 guys
Got-got and nearly extinct like a T-rex, really trying to put him in the sky
MZ's five foot, six but he gave a man tribal marks, don't talk about size
Doors get popped, same way that we pop champagne when we touch one milly
Pop them doors, so you're up, get touched by the gang, same way that we touch one milly
Got stung, no bee when we slid to the B me and bro like Chunkz and Filly
Hop in the ride get a buzz, no Lightyear, really tryna go on them rides like Woody
Yo, when they say we don't slide to B but we slide round there broad day, broad day
I'm in love with the brownskin babes, slim thick with their bodies, bodies
Shawty, shawty if I shoot my shot like a fadeaway
Come blow my whistle like I did foul play
Now let it pop on your breasts and back, come on now baby
We get round there, no motorsport, that's four to the floor, don't know about brakes
I'm with my bro-bro Ace, we step, we step, watch your block vibrate
Bad B wanna come on a boujee ting but I like when the bunda shakes
But I still hop out the ride and jump man, I don't want to drown to the head like Drake
Jump out gang
Tryna slide where the paigons hang
Go click-clack and the ting goes bang
You don't want to get left on the floor like trash
Still tryna itch up his back like rash
They know I don't miss like Rashford, still put 10 on his top like Rashford
Get into beef there's no going backwards
Five man deep in a pagan strip
You could get bun like Chip
Circle twice, yeah we do that quick
Spin that twice, rude boy don't slip, don't slip
Get popped in your head, get wigged
Or you could get boxed or yinged
Score up top for my team like Ings
Pass it to bro and assist like Giggs
Yo, they can't shame us like Coleman crashed right back, get soaked like sponge, huh
I'm tryna make it rain like Roman, no shout, you can get Superman Punched
Free smoke, got the city all burning, you don't wanna get M like Hunch
Get a metal to your face no brace face, corn in a mash tryna feed them lunch
X-10
Ay CZR, you did a mazza still
Credits
Writer(s): Julius Babatunde, David Nkpa, Lloyd Olalere, Desmond Jibona, Tobi Akinseloyin, Frederick Arthur Poole, Israel Olajide
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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