Next Up - S2-E4 (Mixtape Madness Presents)

(No way, Jose)

In the booth with Akh and Skeng, smokin' on some pengaleng

When the MAC's in the dinger, manna gotta dip and blend

If Driz is in your ends, tell a friend to tell a friend

C-Block, Miggy World till the fuckin' end

Catch me on your back block, mobbin' with Black Block

Smokin' on a fat nug, shottin' off some fat rocks

If it ain't the nina, it's the spinner in the black sock

If it ain't the burger, then it's looking like the black Glock

Rest in peace Miguel, my little brother was a black god

Let it die down, then we're coming in like Black Ops

FNs and M10s, you're fuckin' with the mad mob

Brand new APs coming with the black fob

Tracker on your personal, jack boys will get your gaff robbed

Since we lost Migz, we'll do it mask on or mask off

If I get the drop, then I'm rushin' like a Makarov

Hitters on speed-dial and they do a fast job

'99 to '05, kicking ball at Fletcher Moss

'05 to '18, hitting licks and licking off

Driver's window's always down, right ear's baking off

She just wants some steak and love, but I just wanna scrape this pot

I've never had a bitch in the room while whippin' rock

'Cause I was raised on this bait shit, it's the mob

I've been with my main ting for five years and guess what?

She ain't even seen my spot

Mafia lifestyle got me feeling mob boss

Shout my gritters from the C-H to the Moss block

YG on the come up, big pack in a sock

If it's not the spin-spin, then they're packing a Glock

I'm from Chorlton, C-Block, active a lot

Had a hundred racks at 21, chat to me, dog

They think I'm 28, I'm 23, it's actually fucked

They think I'm 28, I'm 23, it's actually fucked

In the booth with Ish and Dyl, tryna hit a fuckin' mil'

Cop a crib on the hill

If you're talking deals, then you'd best be talking quarter mills

If not, 'llow it, 'cause the streets dem have got me

Catch him making plays where the mob be

My little tiger hit a lick, he's looking all frosty

Pull up in the SRT, don't ask me what it cost me

Them figures there, they be soundin' all boxy

And the feds dem are nosy, manna gotta watch, G

But since I lost my little bro, I couldn't give a fuck, B

Always trapped from city, might hit up country

Preeing up these London yutes and that's where the funds be

The streets call me "Head Gun", but my real name's Tunde

You can catch me on the C-Block from Monday to Monday

All I want is caramel cream, no sundae

Phones dem are jumpy

Ten-ten got me up and down like a bungee

(No way, Jose)

Getting guala, no delay

Passing phones every eight hours like a fuckin' relay

And I don't trust a soul now

So if the bag's on deck, then know how we stay

Remember times I was so broke

Me and Migz robbin' bikes, then throwing it on eBay

I'm near the alley like Frando's

I've got my bally on my head 'cause lick squad's how the gang goes

Man are buzzing off some jewellery

But your ice is watered down like both buttons at Nando's

And I wish a kid would

'Cause I never leave the gaff without the snubby or the rambo

And they're calling me the white boy

I'm in a hot rod with Antiguans and Sambos

So free Akhi out the bin

LB, M Low, AT, and the mad bros

I love Lizzie 'cause that **** splits his sweets with me

If you see a bag of buj, know I've got the heat with me

Loyalty's the key if you wanna eat with me

Remember grabbing bags of haze like I couldn't see fifty

Me and K.I.M.E's on the trap, going back to back

Stolen or legal, going lap for lap

Just done a hot one, need a strap for strap

Linking up in other cities, going trap for trap

Your line's dead 'cause you're giving out bad bone

I'm up and down Mauldeth mobbing with my trap phone

Hit a lick or two, had to get my stack grown

Now the Jeep's cherry red with the mad chrome

I'm with a bad bitch giving out mad dome

21's the code if you know my zone

On the block, blowing 'Woods, no pinecone

Inform a hitter, you can get your mind blown