a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de fire in the booth - joe black

[verse 1]
i’m back by popular demand, no more cooking on remand
if feds try the ting they wanted me rotting in the yard
back on the strip, same snakes plotting in the grass
same ‘champagne campaign’ locking off the dance
took some time off, never really had a choice
i’m home now, i’ve got these other rappers paranoid
streets can’t wait till they hear the new bangers
i’m an elite, don’t compare me to these new rappers
i’m on my feet now i’m tryna play my position
islington’s got talеnt, i’m making ’em listen
still contemplating whеther i’ma make the transition
all i know is money’s the motive, paper’s the mission
if the radio played my sh-t the labels would listen
u.k. hip-hop needs me, i’m so necessary
i’m the man, the so called competition would never near me
i get it popping from the cradle to the cemetery
the streets talk, they say black bad
i know my way around the streets like a black cab
i know my way around the beat, no sat-nav
no red, blue, green, grey or black flags
we’re bout our money over here, cash in a black bag
strap in a rucksack in case a c-nt acts bad
squeeks is a beast and the great white champs banks
and u.k. hip-hop needed blackz back
no comment, not guilty, now the feds are p-ssed
i’d like to take this time out to thank mr meredith
no ratings for the flying squad cause they’re stupid
i was never getting birded, my lawyers are jewish
and my money’s right, no legal aid
back on this country hype, grind is in my dna
i’m the best ting in north, i’ve already stressed it before
i was fighting feds in the court
been going hard ever since i stepped in the door
and i’ve got no ratings for the rest cause they’re poor
these n-ggas ain’t living what they rap about
talking bout figures, no figures in their bank account
i was in my cell tryna figure all these w-nkers out
the game’s full of wastemen, it’s all erratic now
these n-ggas wanna stick me for my paper but they can’t
i’m popping bottles, sh-tting on these haters in the dance
they’re looking at the criss, tryna taste it but they can’t
champagne campaign, it’s blatant i’m a star
even when they had the team in the bin
new year’s, we were smoking weed on the wing
real talk, me and magic in the double cell
screws busting the door, telling me that they love the smell
the feds thought they had me but they was wrong
the evidence was weak, they thought that the case was strong
i buss case and took a trip to the highbury blocks
not guilty verdict, f-cked off the flying squad
they wanted me stuck in the nick
but the only time i’m doing a bird is when i’m f-cking a chick
now i’m back in the thick of it, back on my izzy sh-t
fresh out of prison, it’s the best out of britain
definitely hungry, god forgive a yout if he ever try bump me
stay lowkey cause the feds are tryna cuff me
break down beats, now these jezzies wanna f-ck me
still here, still true, look i built more lines than you built zoots
and when i’m up in cunch with a bag of grub
the phone don’t stop blinging till the wraps are done
and when it comes to this rapping stuff
we’re in the lead, ain’t n0body catching up
and everybody’s trapping in their rhymes
when i was the first n-gga that was rapping bout the grind
2004, i was in the crib
bagging up an ounce of the scores, the wraps were big
my mixtape’s out and in stores, classic sh-t
i’m a star in disguise, go hard every bar that i write
i laugh at these guys who spit about barking their nines
but never gripped a star in their life
bars full of lies, me i go hard for the flow
that’s why they label me the star of the show
i mastered the flow, still moving bricks every month
still hitting up cunch, still flipping the grub
if a n-gga talks sh-t then i’m still lifting him up
i’m never switching it up, i still spit for the slums
still got the youngers outing the draws
all four of my mixtapes is out in all stores
no lies bruv, i’m a grinder
i’m motivated, i’ve got money on my mind, junkies on my line
the team’s unique, there ain’t no other n-ggas like us
at fifteen they had me playing rugby with the lifers
[verse 2]
it feels like i’m never gonna stop
one-thirty on the m11 with a box
getting in the crop, selling it in dots
one step ahead of cops, i’ve got several different spots
we get money off the fiends cause they’ve been loyal
white’s peng, the buj runs clean off the tinfoil
we’re getting it in, it’s a marathon
and bruv i’m destined to win, i’m one of the best in this ting
coming up n0body didn’t wanna show love
so i said “f-ck it” and built up my own buzz
and now the mixtapes are tearing up the roads bruv
cause i spit that real sh-t that the roads love
no punchlines, just cunch lines
if i ain’t at cunch i’m getting money off the front line
and trust the food’s lovely round here
look we’re getting money round here
i’m so lawless, i spit that izzy rap so you know the flow’s flawless
lyrical king, mixtapes of that raw stuff
me, i stay on my north sh-t
they bump me in east, they hype me in south
they know we’re f-cking up the roads on my side of the town
from day dot i’ve been out here grafting and pitching
listening to heartless on mission
i stopped listening to mighty moe
hustled up a little change so i could go and buy an o
weed money was slow, i was smoking my profit
jumped on a hard grind, put some dough in my pocket
you better tell ’em that
the youngers will run up on ’em and make the semi slap
you better tell ’em that
no competition fam, the rest are pants
if it ain’t me or squeeks it’s all bets on banks
get it in your head i ain’t never been scared
i’ve been to h-ll and back fam, you ain’t never been there
i’ll never turn my back on my hood, my bredrins are there
plus money is the motivation, we’re getting it here
i tried my best to stay clear from the jakes
move low-key in the rental, steer through estates and dip
i tried my best to stay clear from the snakes
smiling in my face, i can see the fear in their face
real recognise real, give me some sp-ce
kicking down the door, we’re k!lling the tapes
making money over here, we’ve got dubs and the bobs
you ain’t never been here, you ain’t cut off a box
you ain’t buss off a glock, you ain’t run from the cops
i ain’t never been scared of nothing but god
you ain’t a crook son, you’re just a shook one, i ain’t never been scared
[verse 3]
you can see the pain in my eyes
music’s the only game i can see change in my life
and i ain’t gonna lie
i ran through a lot of p’s when i was a yout
i just weren’t saving it right
it’s been a while since i come out the pen
there’s no food right now, the drought’s come round again
me, i’ll get my hands on a box of buj, stretch that
bag it into couple hundred wraps and bring the bread back
how did i end up selling these drugs?
i used to kick ball, now that’s a distant memory cuz
but i’m easing off the food and leaning towards the music
cause right now we’ve got a h-ll of a buzz
telling you cuz, but now that we’re making a couple movements
n-ggas that are hating created a couple of rumours
look i got a message for these silly little t-ss-rs
thinking that they’re shottas
my chick’s the only person that can strip me to my boxers
so bring it if you wanna
my stick is really bursting, if you slip then you’re a goner
i’m known in the streets of islington as the boss
keep thinking cause we’re from islington that we’re soft
i’m a product of my environment, i really put my work in on the roads
check the criminal record, there ain’t denying it
you can’t find a n-gga in jail who says i ain’t hot
my cd’s in every cell, i’m like a radox
i’m raining on ’em, better go and get their shower gels
my name’s ringing bells, coming out the cells
it’s blackz the u.k. rap heavyweight, the kid is hot
mixtape’s k!lling them, shows with ricky ross
a year ago i was moving grub on my landing g
they kept shipping me out, the govs couldn’t handle me
and i got an extra five months in the end
and all cause i weren’t plugging my tech
and now i’m here, north think i’m the best
south think i’m big, east feel my bars and they love me in west
these k!llers aim for my head so i ain’t f-cking with vests
plus every man has to die, i ain’t running from death
if you’re coming to k!ll me make sure you’re coming correct
my aim’s tight, i’m due to put slugs in your neck

- joe black

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS