HB Freestyle

[Verse]
Man can't tell me bout trapping
Got the TT grub, that's banging
I was in jail, on the wing on a mad ting
No we don't tell, don't sing, no yapping
No license, pull up and crash
Jump out gang, man bang that mash
Imma slang that food and I grab that cash
And I cannot lose cah I back my chat
I was banged up listening to Ambush
I bagged up then I got banged up
I was in jailhouse, I was on badness
Never got bailed out, I was on cameras
Man talk that greaze on phones
Opps can't back their beef on road
Put it in a neck knot, knees and toes
If you touch my bro I'll breeze in homes
Grew up on risky roads
Kenan and Kel, yeah I miss my bros
See them in Hell, I was doing up road
Never got bailed so we're doing ten toes
All my bros up in jail bang doors
If you see a opp on the road get bored
Fam I had a dots on your block, it was worn
Caine all white like the Tottenham forward
Hand ting get man dancing
Ain't no party, bro got the boxes
I got the hooks like Muhammad Ali
Things in the kitchen
Playing out my position like Kante and Sarri
Me and dem on different stages
Bro inside and catching cases
Paigons ain't done shit for ages
Come around, they see us having fun
Bro didn't get bail so a opp got bun
Why you talk bout pumps on your block? Got none
One milli on Opp Block nearly done
Yo done
Yeah I'm trapped in a box like Blaine
Run up on a trap like "What you saying?"
Linford Christie, Gordon Ramsay, hold that blade
Giving out packs so the crackhead's running out of veins
I'm rapping
No skengs, just fans that are clapping
Out here tryna make it happen
Mash work till my gang's all patterned
I was a worker
Threatened to rob my block with a Burner
[?] is a murder
You will see ten YG's come turn up
I was skiving school
Big pap pap for a handy tool
Big bruck back for your fucking crew
And if I'm still up on the ends it ain't nothing new
Fat dots in my backpack
Came through blacked up in a black hat
Man a get wrapped up like Mad Max
Man a aim for your head top like Baghdad
Life's hard but it gets harder
Spent most of my teens in Glen Parva
Glen Parva, that was way back then
Fuck Man City cah I paint that red
Had to get busy, had to make that bread
If it don't make money that it don't make sense
Gang gang, they ain't ganging
They bang Gram, they ain't banging
I'll tan a man while he's standing
I had to wrap a man on the landing