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letra de jamrock takeover - klashnekoff

hook:
“out in the street, they call its murder”

verse 1:
i rep for the street, crept into the game through the depths of the east
swift like samurai leave a wet to the cheek, i was marga and wheat
while the rest of them eat, now im back on the blocks like these mc’s, who chat a bag of breeze
best rest your beak, or rest in peace, i got recipes to dead your beef..

(rewind) pull up, pull up, play that sh-t again..

i rep for the street, crept into the game through the depths of the east
swift like samurai leave a wet to the cheek, i was marga and wheat
while the rest of them eat, now im back on the blocks like these mc’s, who chat a bag of breeze
best rest your beak, or rest in peace, i got recipes to dead your beef
i bring breath to beat, bless, like when two best friends meet
on a west end street
but i can’t stop, tryna walk road with a righteous bop
heart of a rass with the tightest of locks, been in hackney for years tryna fight for my spot
now im tryna make quick ps then p off…cause
hook:
“out in the street, they call its murder”

verse 2:
but back to the matter, back to the big beat, shout to the jammer
anyting test [?], f the chit chatter, your chin get shattered
any claims to them ah dapper, claims to them ah shatter, claims to them, ah shut up
im sick of the pr-ck who spit ‘ickory d-ck’ cause their diggin a chick
in the back of the biggest of whips
im low budget like chicken and chips, still got your b-tch l!cking her lips, like
oh sh-t, im ready to get, grab your kit, grab your coat, lets jet
she grabbed me close and said “i’m so wet”, “so what?”
so you know i dont pet
wine like a bet but grind like a yout thats tryna hold rep..

hook:
“out in the street, they call its murder”

verse 3:
but we dont wanna start the arms house
make mans switch get the army garms out
feds on the phone, tell the mans to calm down, we got your dough, helicopter and calm down
im gonna hurt this ting, ready to merk, beserk when the ‘chete’s at work
better you blurt, revert, back to birth, ima vet you with no petty for the cats to purr
lash, [?]
dash your girl and crash your world
and trust, we dont need thugs behind us
you know where to find us, east londons finest
top spitters and rhymers, hot shotters who pop coppers to past time cuz, its sick in the grind cuz, even the [?] will stick you for fivers..

- klashnekoff

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