Freestyle

[Intro: Gabzy, Joe Grind]
It's Gabzy freestyle (Gabzy)
[?] Down In The Dirt mixtape (Hmm)
It's nuts

[Verse 1: Gabzy, Joe Grind]
My [?] cooking minds
I'm so hot [?], you can probably fry eggs with my book of rhymes (Ooh)
I can also be cold, you don't wanna laugh
I make the sun, wanna put on a jacket and a scarf
A longer last (Yeah), I mean I last longer
Guess I'm a longer last
You don't want the crime follow
So when I'm around, put your backs up
My mentality's so far ahead, even your future's tryna catch up (Ah fuck)
And my barrels are far from hollow
Man I'm a rider, I'm up for not seeing tomorrow
So when it's, back in it time, I'm straight in
I ain't waiting for the voice at the back of my mind
It's contemplating, I'm straight in
It's that, no lip flow and just spare fist throwing
When you're balling, girls come swarming
So right about now, my love life is still boring
But 9 out of 10 is my marks
See me in my workouts in the t-shirt
I walked from Primark
But trust me brother, I'ma run tings
Cah I keep my focus tight like government funding (Wooh)
And 'round here, it's hot like a sauna
Can't enjoy the good times
Cah I know the bad ones are right 'round the corner
But nah-nah, I'm gon' enjoy life
They give me happiness, then I'm gonna boy life
So go give it to me, man I'm a high roller, do me suttin' talk
I don't bop, I just stroll, it's the do me suttin' walk
But peace is the essence
That's all you should spread
If you don't know that, I suggest you ask the dead
I got my street credit already so I'm nice a lot
You think I'm pussy? Try me
I can bet my life I'm not
And, you don't wanna get blood on your pricey top
You [?] and Gabzy on the grimy block
And you can think what you want
Yeah, reh-reh-reh
When you say, "Hi Gabzy", I can hear fear, fear, fear
Obviously, it's a different story when they're 'bout high
I just say 'low it
I don't wanna cause no bad nights
Don't wanna hear no talk 'bout "he say"
Man I'm a rider, I take it to the edge like cheesecake
And hold on, I ain't finished
Nah
That was enough for like, two Christmas dinners

[Bridge: Gabzy]
(Woo)
Yeah
It's Gabzy
(That is [?] innit?
Fuck it, send for Colours)
Colours
Listen up

[Verse 2: Colours Miyagi]
Ayo, ayo
Chicks see my dick, she wanna suck it and wiggle it
Chick bust my zip, and then she sucked it and wiggle it
Big juicer, she swallow, done a little spit
Said you're a little prick
She don't check you no more blud, 'cause you got a little dick
Roll with no little sticks, no little clips
Cock it back and there ain't no
Age ain't nuttin' but a number
So I still pimp a little bitch
You can get jacked if you're a little rich
Under your bed, for your cash
Leave you where your dough was
Go where your hoe was, leave her soaked in seman
Queen's where I'm from, but in New York there's a Queen's Bridge
Bring back bullet holes and shoot niggas where their jeans is
Long as I leave their soul where their mother of the Queen's is
Know there's suttin' up there, I don't know if it's Jesus
Know about churches, bibles, and deep readers
On the street, you can get your beans split
And your team hit
Whole family, you can get your beans hit
Building up a line, my number one cat's Felix
Murderers, try your new style
Put the gat to the head
Rinse the whole clip and shout it's a new remix
Seen with the .45, ain't talkin' 'bout the semans
Get papers and them bitches change their attitude
See the .50's and the chicks wanna be slamming you
Link with their friends and then the bitch start chatting you
Only happy when the hoods in 'em
What good they bringing? Only a good digging
And most chicks useless
Reason for that? Is most chicks ain't [?]
Probably fucked your friend drunk or booless
And I notice chicks like rumours
Get big headed from the car 'ooters
Some chicks only worth a quick juicer
Stab the [?] like my hoods a big juba
More rock toppin' and the digs more looser
Call me the good router
Colours never wears shoes with no socks
And I ain't got barookas
Catch me in Nike's, never see me in Pumas
And we got weapons over here, leave you dead or clueless
You can get your back like Lex Luger's
We got the gats and the lugers
Had my pockets clipped up, leave your soul in the same direction where the roof is
Telephone tough guy, get your body in a box and that's where the proof is