War Mode

I'm going into war mode and that means I'll do what the fuck I want to

And I'm on some "I don't give a fuck who it belongs to"

Track star, you wanna see the lizzy that I run through

I'm a rap star now but I'm a don too, DP

Not a driller but I've left man open, leaky

Terrorist the way I got man's parents screaming

Brandishing my flicky in the shubs, steaming

When I snap I see red like I'm possessed by a demon

Always been a **** that can dress clean

Robbing every day, I would finesse weed

Never knew when I would see my next dream

Cah the nightmares had a **** stressed

Now they're telling me I'm blessed but we're listening to an ex-thief

Loyal for my killies I will sweat, bleed

Don't cry for me if it's death

Cry for me if I lose the will to hustle and go get Ps

Never that, I'm in the Lamborghini with the roof off

For Nipsey's Victory Lap

Taking me back to nights in the trap

Watching my older putting nasty in a wrap bag

And wan control your feet 'cause if they burst in, flush

Had the baking soda, let it boil, don't rush it

These class A, you need a balaclava

And if you see feds, hit the fence and use the bushes as a cushion

It gets filthy when you're getting dirty money fucking with these hood rats

When you're serving scumbags you better pray you run fast

'Cause the guilty means you'll do time you'll never get back

It's all fun and games until you're in a cage

Nobody tells you the jail's full of regrets

I'm on the phone telling him I want the rose gold Richard Mille with the baguettes

You're loyal to your soil, you think **** are real

Till they start sending dick pictures over to your ex

And your olders are certified till you hit the block

Years later in a C class Mercedes and you're mortified

The same **** that taught you to cook a rock, told you to bag it up

Looking like a shot

In the pen as me you gotta be smart

These rappers are following the leader

Get the new Louis when it's just in like Bieber

And now the petty tank 6 litre

Before Cali weed we had haze

Ownership is how we get paid

I'm looking at mansions, know your **** don't play

I got the statue made in Italy like it's a bolognese

Watch this, look

I'm about to sell out the arena in my city

I'm like the pied piper the way that they walk with me

And don't listen to a word the papers say

Cah when it's the castle nobody fucks with me in the streets

Pay us like City and United's got a game

Traffic jams and everything, I don't get adrenaline

I just get competitive, everyone's repetitive

Tired of seeing broke **** acting like they stack

When their career's half-dead already like they're Pete & Bas

It's an automatic, now it's giving man a heart-attack

I've had a chart position five years in a row back-to-back

So if legends live forever then I guess I'm Peter Pan

I resurrected on 'em like the black Jesus

Jumped down from the cross and landed on my feet, dead-centre

Used to spend the winter shotting off boxes from a blender

Now the tour starts November and we finish in December

What got the Scottish and Irish

Pulling up on boats like they're pirates

Lions and tigers

I came up with riders

Any disrespect, we'll decorate your front door with the bottom of our Nikes

You're listening to a Monarch

I'm British and I'm proud

Always give my blood, sweat and tears to the crowd

God save the queen 'cause she's the head of state

I was banging on my adversaries with an empty plate

Then I got myself a fork, chicken with the perinaise

Pray to the gods for better days

Only do it if it gets you paid

Manchester to the death and home of the brave

This is that great British shit 'cause I was born here

Learn to kick a ball here

I remember Paul Gascoigne with three lions on his shirt lay on the floor with his arms in the air

Just celebrating the victory of warfare

Greatness running through my veins

On these cold English streets is where I learned to play the game

I learned to break a kilo to 36, 28ths and I'm decapitating rappers like I'm fucking Henry the eight

Bugsy Malone, 21, dun know