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letra de pen game, vol. 2 - margs

[intro]
ah-ah, aaaah
ay morf you went crazy with this one
f-ck off

[verse]
it’s a rap as soon as i select him
only thing that’s gonna save you is if there’s a problem with the weapon
it feels like we’re living in a western
but this is eastside rider gang rep for your section
i heard a couple man from forest gate and stratford don’t like man from canning town and beckton
j hus is hard, kojo’s dope too
i’m just happy eastside n-ggas getting mentioned
but i’m from hackney where everybody pack heat
and man make pagan n-ggas turn athletes
half the hood love margsy, the rest hating
so we the kinda gang to put your homie in the papers
i’m the kinda man that bring it to every function
cus yeah people k!ll people; gun save em
so when you see me sk-nking, way too comfy
remember how i like to move when i’m raving
look, cl!ck on it, ting vomit, big body, tiptronic, cop bobby, quick profit, bish bash, chop chop it
the more i get the more i want i can’t stop chopping
they want the old margs, not some old margs
i’ll k!ll these n-ggas off with some old bars
big ting, know how, big margs, warlord!
ayy, you know my style
star on the grip you know my nine
like gyal thick you know my size
free up all the dargs who know my side
round my side we run tings, stay doing dumb things
we l!ck shots leave holes big like dumplings
n-ggas love to gwan like they on tings, but, trust they don’t want smoke they don’t want things
i’m on a margohype, harder than all you guys
never lacking always banging chopper leave you half your size
run up on him claat your ride
shot him off with half your side
always chatting never banging i swear i f-cking hate your type
you rep the fakers right? i rep the real ones
i roll through your ends with smoke on crazy bikes
you can die in the eight tonight
and if we cool and i got beef with your friend you better take his side
so take time with it, i’m straight slime with it
k!ll the whole hook no track that’s my gimmick
talk a lot of sh-t, but i live it
clap you in the face and tell the judge i did it i’m wicked
woke up this morning i’m livid
i don’t know who told em they tough and i’m timid
all i know is good as i get, i give it
all i do is bring it
tryna leave earth when i kick it
push it to the limit stay speeding
i don’t need a reason, to pop pop pepper in my lyrics
no rocket science no physics
all i hear is sirens the mandem launching rockets on the strizeet
look, the blocks hot, g’s be the top top
fiends get shot broad day out the drop top
pop shots, holes in your clothes that’s a hot rock
when chest shot gang hit your ends watch your stock drop

- margs

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