Lyrics
[Verse 1]
(Just had to kick a chick out the studio, fam, shit's nuts
In Kyle's words, fam, the truth is madder than fiction, fam
It's nuts out here)
[Verse 2]
Look
I see a ting that I touched tell me about talking stage
Gotta tell her, "Don't force it"
Beef man, pepper and salt it
Me and RJ gotta pull up, no talking trap
You ain't got a rack to your name
My bro Brick Lane, we don't know about Shoreditch
Rental, I never insured it
M25, gotta whip that calmly
Man try beef with my dargy
Warzone ting how I come third party
My little **** can't lose that cash
I drop YG's, do it like Kehlani
I don't rock Gucci or Armani
ST from ST, I can't
Squash that beef like fruit and barley
Still got a one black star like Kwame
[Verse 3]
Three car convoy in Sutton
My mum got matching whips with Yungen
Should've made Shanae hold on sumtin'
But it never would've worked cah the girl too stubborn
Young G's talking my name on the ends
Gotta tell a man, "Please don't risk it"
On the right day man ah just frisk him
On the wrong day I'm getting man air lifted
I'm in Hollywood Hills with the white Rolls-Royce
And a one Browning from Compton
The Lambo parked just in front
Man pull up to the bumper and do it like Konshens
She wanna go LV, no problem
Went for the cheapest bag, that's nonsense
I took 100 bags from Barclays Bank
No cap, you can go and ask Ellie
That one mine, bouncing Betty
The bag 4K like a HD telly
Best believe that I'm back like Nelly
Chest petite with a back like Jelly
I'm seeing man send indirects
If you wanna war man then you better be vocal
My right hand got a semi that's local
And this Browning I can't post on socials
My girl gotta be far from social
I don't wanna see her at Carni
4 double 8 in the party
LBC how I nicked the Ferrari
Girls say we're the littiest batch in South London
And, bro, it's a fact
Airport, we're going for bants
I hopped out the plane, I ain't going Verdansk
What you know about telling a 10/10 to keep her clothes on and moving good?
I ain't on beating or misogyny
It's mahogany, I got bougie wood
Look, Airbnb with the guys
It's a white man's face that I use to book
Chill with the stupid looks
Or it's gonna be a kettle that I use to cook
[Verse 4]
I see a ting that I touched tell me about talking stage
Gotta tell her, "Don't force it"
Beef man, pepper and salt it
Me and RJ gotta pull up, no talking trap
You ain't got a rack to your name
My bro Brick Lane, we don't know about Shoreditch
Rental, I never insured it
M25, gotta whip that calmly
Man try beef with my dargy
Warzone ting how I come third party
My lil **** can't lose that cash
I drop YG's, do it like Kehlani
I don't rock Gucci or Armani
ST from ST, I can't
Squash that beef like fruit and barley
Still got a one black star like
Written by: Dave, Kyle Evans