Intro lyrics

[Verse]
Yeah I got silly dough from this street sh*t
But if I left the music game would the fans still love me?
Had my trap phone stinging in my own city
Cos we had sh*t on lock, never had to go to country
If I weren’t known for really doing this or Migz never died I wonder to myself would they still bump me
Who knows, the music games f*cked up nowadays
I’ve seen the fakest guys blowin' like a pumpy
It’s like the actors and di*k riders blow
So I keep traps kicking got the bros them servin'
I put in so much work in that sh*t whip that my tailbone and left shins still hurting
I just stick to doing me, stacking racks by the hundreds
I ain’t really into wave surfing
Still on this M-O-B ting, if it ain’t my main ting you won’t catch me licking out or buying Birkin's
I shot whitе or green with bits of purple but I ain’t talking bout buzz lightyear
I’m in that GLC 43 doing 160, mobbing down the M-way in ninth gеar
Quick to run that food back if I whip it in the pot and it’s frothy at the top like a pint beer
Only f*cking with that cream gotta get it for my team
Coronas f*cking up the price so it’s quite dear
I miss hitting Miller and Carter with Miggy Migz and getting lost on mac n cheese with fillet steak
Or going halves on the finest of Cali
Early shifts got us doing wake and bake
Have you ever trapped so hard in the German that the dashboards saying take a break
Music's got me tryna turn my dirty money 'leg cos mummy needs a big boy gaff by the lake
I’ve been buying and selling from early since a school kid I couldn’t wait for the bell
Then I got locked up in 2014, threw my dreams down the wishing well
Have you ever blew next door’s electrics try a spark a big boy zoot in your cell
But it was light work up in the bank
Free my guys in the ways cos I’ve heard that it’s hell
But Tunde still got sh*t locked like it’s Walton
Dads Nigerian, grew up in Chorlton
I was putting flake in the pot for the paper
Now the stacks sky high, taller than a skyscraper