D.U.B.Z.

[Intro: DJ Big Ryde & Dubz]
You know that I do this ting
Ayo, here what I'm sayin', Dubz
I hear these niggas talking like they don't know what you're about
Like you don't ddo this ting
So hear what I'm sayin'
I want you to lay it down
I want you to do your ting
Go ard bodied, show these niggas what you're about, yeah?
Yo, listen
Alright, let's go

[Verse 1: Dubz]
I never had a routine when I was younger
I wanted new things (Things)
I wanted shoes clean matching my jumper
So, I had to do things (Things)
I went though teens, mash in my jumper
Jack you, you couldn't do things back when we jumped ya
The food's mean and I hang in the slumber
Where there's loose fiends and gangsters with hunger
Now a few fiends are banging my number
Don't consign your food, that would be dumb bruh
'Cause if you do then we bump ya
The shots ricocheting off the roof and the bumper
The clip we're spraying
Leave a yute in the dumpster, just for saying (Saying)
He's gonna try with my brothers (What?)
Furthermore, I'll wait in his house and dive out the cupboards
Like "die motherfucker" my 9 blaka-blaka
And I'll hear them shells or a slice with the cutter

[Chorus: Joe Grind]
We've got D's (D's) on our back, tryna put us in the bin
'Cause a few (Few) snitch niggas, should be slugs in your skin
For the B (B) and the W, they're ringing off the line
Got the Z's (Z's), hit the strip, we've got money on our minds
We've got D's (D's) on our back, tryna put us in the bin
'Cause a few (Few) snitch niggas, should be slugs in your skin
For the B (B) and the W, they're ringing off the line
Got the Z's (Z's), hit the strip, we've got money on our minds

[Verse 2: Dubz]
Look I'm lost and I've never felt lonelier
The impostors have never been phonier
I see them smile but I know that it's phony love
That's why I ride 'round the zone with the chromey tucked
Fiends show me love 'cause most of them know me as
The nigga that sells the drugs washed with ammonia
Look, homie I'm a hustler
Stick bony but the muscle's tucked
Expose it now you're muddled up, crying
Now your homie wanna cuddle up, fine
Make your homie do the double-dutch
I ain't giving one motherfuck
I let the Smith & go bap-bap-bap
In the kitchen, coke bubble up
That's how your flip phones double up
I'm a pit, no muzzle bruv
Skitzo, it's no, christmas carol bruv
Spliffs rolled, hypno
Wrist glow, chicks go
This low, kiss no
Dicks get devoured up, yeah
You'll get your whole crew showered up
You're a coward 'cause, you and your boys rail
The beef kicks off, you'll put your phone on the voicemail
You niggas are pussy, remind me of moist girls
For thinking I'm pussy you'll find out the toy's real
Thinking of push me, you'll find out the choice
Well, that's your boy? I'm putting one in your darg's tail

[Chorus: Joe Grind]
We've got D's (D's) on our back, tryna put us in the bin
'Cause a few (Few) snitch niggas, should be slugs in your skin
For the B (B) and the W, they're ringing off the line
Got the Z's (Z's), hit the strip, we've got money on our minds
We've got D's (D's) on our back, tryna put us in the bin
'Cause a few (Few) snitch niggas, should be slugs in your skin
For the B (B) and the W, they're ringing off the line
Got the Z's (Z's), hit the strip, we've got money on our minds