Lyrics:
keeps your heart on the run.
I met that cat in a two-bit juke-joint:
Took my money in a game of pool.
Next thing I knew, I was sittin' 'hind
of the fittest
My two hands in the air
It's me against the world
We gon ride through the years
But that time is gon come
That time we gon shine
Just pray we live
really on it, they pussy
I swear to God all these niggas dramatic
Hold up, actually, I wanna fuck her
Pussy run up, we gon' put him on a t-shirt
With
we're doing it, wow
Skepta, you look like you’ve got AIDS
You look like you’ve got HIV
You look like you’ve got Gonorrhea
All around your lips
'Cos you
(come on)
It goes one by one, even two by two
Everybody on di floor let me show you how we do
Let's go, dip it low, then you bring it up slow
Whine
from these punk police
'Cause lil' niggas run the streets
"First 2 Bomb" "16 on Death Row"
Bustin' on them phony motherfuckers 'cause the big homie
out the muscle, we winning the cup
Abide by the code, we running it up
I’m a grown man now I laid it up
Got the whole city, now we made up
Niggas still
for real) g ry got me
Uh, uh
And we keep pistols
(And we keep the pistols)
Rocket launchers missiles (yeah)
Youngins will walk up and hit you
(Grrah,
see double, I see triple
Might be trouble, might see pistols
We ain't tryna hear you haters sucking on sickles
We living it up in two double O sizzle
by the fame aye
Don't test my temper cause imma get angry but they like
Cole got 'em Ghost got 'em riding with the pistol grip
Cole got 'em Ghost got
sins
Loudly run by those fuckers pulling up at his house, sticking their nose in it, left with no choice but to pull a machete from the boot of his car,
Number 1 we don’t beef about Pussy
Number 2 we don’t Entertain Pussies
Why these Niggas he throwing that salt tryna fuck up my name & they still don’t Get
the window with that stick make it sing
Go by different names when I'm serving my feigns
Who said I don't want this shit? know I do, whatchu' mean
I got two
(Two divided by zero, zero)
(Two divided by zero, zero, zero)
Let's not go home, we'll catch the late train
I've got enough money to pay all
I just come and get you
I'm 'bout my issue, I don't know 'bout you, but I'm gon' deliver
I'ma pop my pistol, I'ma hop out, shoot, I'ma run, go get
One two three
People pullin out their guns
One two three
Guns fired off everyone starts to run
One two three
Shots going off I ain't talking about
slide my round
We gon' bang wit' yo' nigga as soon as it go left
Now that's all I'ma tell you, they know 'bout the gang
We put shit on the shelf
Run
always caked up
Chromed out and draped up
Constantly telling me we need to get this paper
I'm getting skinny and it's he who get my weight up
Straight up
me
Let's go see what our enemies talkin' bout
When G's enter the house nobody's walkin out
This ain't livin', it's similar to prison, we trapped
dead nigga
Called on by the Scanman
We be like whatever nigga
Whoop ya Kaizie style nigga
If you want us come get us
Come bring it to the camp
pistol
(Ying Yang don't take shit!) we make this motherfucker whistle
D-Roc, Kaine, DJ Smurf, we bring it straight pimping
(Fuck that one on one!), put
your sacks?"
it's only one got two packs a case of static where niggas got ya back
some real ass homies you can roll with
so when the phony ones come
REPEAT CHORUS 2X:]
Oooh La La La, It's the way that we rock when we're doing our thang
Oooh La La La, It's the natural LA that the Refugees Bring
Oooh La
I been cookin cookin cookin
All we sell is dope (right here)
If I can't find you in yo hood
We pop up at yo show
You run yo mouth then you get burnt
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