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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
AJ Tracey
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Ché Wolton Grant
Lyrics
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
My whole team getting high off sativa
My food's peng like Erin Budina
If you ain't gang, then you can't get a feature
I don't follow back chicks, I'm a leader
She don't wanna give blows, she a diva
She just wanna give blows to the reefer
I got a brown skin push-up Latina
I beat it up, then I bang on the FIFA
I don't bring your girl 'round, I'm a teefer
She said her team got hot like a fever
I ain't tryna be a stayer or a leaver
I want FaceTime, I don't wanna beat her
Nah, FaceTime, I don't wanna mash that
Trapstar hoodie and a snapback
I don't even smoke, but I back straps
Push up your wig and it snap back
My whole team in black 'cause we're anti
Your whole team tryna sing like Ashanti
My peng tings lookin' artwork, Banksy
She come around then she take off the panties
Whoa, off pant, take off the thong
Us man were cold from 19 How long
I remember getting shots while I'm on FIFA
Then tryna text like "AJ, how long?"
Now I'm doing shows, I'm earnin' that wong
Can't surf with me, the wave is too strong
Tell a man how can trapping be dead
When I been getting all my packs of food gone?
Yeah my connects still alive and well
Still on my case, tryna line up cells
I'm just tryna cool nuh like Tobz
Like Gohan, I ain't tryna find them Cells
Whoa, I used to push Charlie, now Charlie's pushing me
Had the cats on my line, something like Pusha T
Shelled airwaves, then I got a music degree
Not literally, I do music for P
I ain't gotta bang, using for me
My cuz said "Trace, use it for free"
I'm active, no way I'm losing the beef
Come to a show, I got girls in abundance
Fuck the jakes with the cuffs and the truncheons
Couldn't shut down a PC at your nan's gaff
But you wanna hate when I'm shutting down functions
Boom burger, double cheese, no onions
South West, rep both of the Londons
I was out there gettin' yacked in Dublin
Dashing Euros down the drain by the hundreds
My iPhone died, pissed
But it's all good, 'cause the brick phone's bangin'
This ain't just music, hear what I'm sayin'
I get the drop, interceptors start slanging
No COD, send the opp and I'll frag him
Like Grim said, "Man ah black bin, bag him"
Starting with me is a myth, don't do it
Saw the man bring a big black MAC in
The wheel's not deep, look at you catting
Itching your arms, look at you man gagging
Me, I have fun and I play with the beat
But I do when I bust, you can say a man's shagging
I don't bun dro, that's not me
But see me in the party fam, I'm lagging
Land in the rave, don't need no tagging
Real name Flex, don't need no padding
Don't pretend to miss the drop like me
If you see somebody, do it shout AJT
'Cause I fathered the flow, fathered the styley
Bare man, wanna be a AJ follower
I need works so it's fine by me
I'll sponsor youths with a few Nikes
You're my son if you're running with a style like me
I said don't pretend to miss the drop like me
If you see somebody, do it shout AJT
'Cause I fathered the flow, fathered the styley
Bare man, wanna be a AJ follower
I need workers so it's fine by me
I'll sponsor youths with a few Nikes
You're my son if you're running with a style like me
Ladbroke Grove is where I reside
Man get burst up on the G side
Last brudda went and got his door kicked off
All cause he asked Jay for a three five
Anyone who said he touched me, he lied
Man thought West was a joke, he tried
My block's just like a hornet's nest
Your block's sweet just like a beehive
Anywhere that we got beef, we drive
Didn't even hit him that hard, he died
If you get boomed with the 44 long
Critical hit, no chance to revive
Don't think 'cause you got a pouch, you're bad
Knife in the pouch or not, you'll get skied
Wooden handle on an old school spinner
Hit man with the brunettes, get dyed
Don't think 'cause you're in a whip, you're sick
Tings in the car or not, you'll get pitched
Golden teeth, we loading that scram
Hit man with the blonde tips get lift
Us man grind on the road, don't grift
Call up Strally and make a boy shift
Your girl said she needs me on her birthday
I wrapped her pum-pum like "Take this gift"
Run up in a man's yard, ask for the raw
Tie a man to a chair or the front door
Tell a man's mum "Shut your mouth, be quiet"
Push man's little bro onto the floor
Then dash man's XBox games and a bunch
Then eat your younger sibling's packed lunch
Don't think 'cause I say cool, you're safe
Still make a man's dad go and hit cunch
Written by: Ché Wolton Grant, Mazza
