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letra de rude boy (remix) - angel

[verse 1: tally]
so what’s the deal?
tropicana, kind of sh-t you could find in brazil
this sh-t is real
chilling with the n-ggas and you know they got license to k!ll
so, i need a kilo
got a fiver on me, i’mma buy me some doritos
you ain’t got the reload?
oh, you a pookie n-gga
you just acting like you rico

[hook: angel]
why they wanna call my name?
i don’t really talk much when they talk tough
cause i don’t wanna catch no case
man ah man ah rudeboy from the corner
if they ever call my name
i let it off, let it off, let it off, let it off
cuh man ah man ah rudeboy from the corner

[verse 2: wretch 32]
man ah man ah rudeboy from the corner
with a riri on my arm and my armour saying cici
f-ckboy, mi no talk much, mi no tweet tweet
trap, buss your twitter fingers when you see me
if you put a finger on my gang
i might take the finger off your hand
but leave you right there where you stand
got some young n-ggas that’ll k!ll you with the gab
i grew around the best, they said it’s all about the money
anyting a anyting for mummy
i care for my mother, i shed tears for my mother
picking what we gonna wear for the summer
that’s rare in the gutter, see, i care for me
so i care for you like you care for me
and i’ve seen how you share with your runner
how you tryna keep it 1000 with a oner?

[hook: angel]
why they wanna call my name?
i don’t really talk much when they talk tough
cause i don’t wanna catch no gaze
man ah man ah rudeboy from the corner
if they ever call my name
i let it out, let it out, let it out, let it out
cuh man ah man ah rudeboy from the corner

[verse 3: jme]
yo, yo, yo, put this on replay
young gs buy a drink, split it three ways
man’ll use their schoolbook for a replay
living life based off what we say
when you’re spitting on the beat
you’re spitting on the street, fam, you’re selling them a dream
i wish man told me when i was a teen
dead food, dead beef, dead cuisine, dead
with no charger
tell a man fix up, work harder
see him in pharm but he’s not a farmer
wanna place blame on no father
man ah man ah have got canerow, no barber
man ah man ah run the radio like sama
man a run the tv like a drama
mum and dad are cool now, now a holla

- angel

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