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lirik lagu for my town – feltz or f3ltzyy

back on the mic i do it for my town
i got the b*tch loving my leopard print crown
got people in scotland banging my sound
then she go down south, portsmouth town
moving in motion
hold tight komoshen
smoking on the poton
till we’re f*cking floating
been smoking on dutch
on my bullsh*t cod clutch
turning buds into dust
puff puff puff get f*cked
sipping on the guava
you’re talking all that blah blah
i’ll leave you yellow, lala
i’m a devil but i ain’t saha
i’m gonna go far, far
from spitting the bar, bar, bar, bar
i’m striker demba ba, ba, ba
i’m high star, star
i said i’m fly call me kamikaze
in the fast lane no one will pass me
dreaming of a bugatti
there’s the money give me the car key
cos they know f3ltzyy’s a boss g
and he’s getting in the p
feds really wanna stop me
until they hear me on the beat
i smoke cheese, kush, amnease
grow our own seeds
and when i see that profit
all i see is p, p, p
and that there is me, me, me
in the trap cutting the key
in the trap counting the p
i pay heed, he pays me
so everything out here sweet
and i’ll be f*cking beats
shut down on the beach
like we came in fleets
my rooms like a weed gale
i’m windy i don’t sail
but i’m getting in that 80 mill
like i just sol gareth bale
my lyrics i will conserve
when i die bury them with the earth
cos you know i get on my dirt
cos i do it for my turf
and i was gifted from birth
and i’ll still be gifted in the hurst
and f3ltzyy’s always going first
cos all we do is swir
sleep when i’m rich, sleep when i’m rich
but i’ll still be f*cking your b*tch
getting brain whilst counting my gibbs
going ham but don’t talk to pigs
i don’t drink but i’m buying the drinks
she’s diverse one pink, one stink
she’s giving head, i wonder what she thinks
she was on my chain i said i don’t want to link
and my weed it f*cking stinks
leave your head of the brink
she gave me a cheeky i called her a minx
got her eyes all looking ch*nked
blazing on the ammy got me feeling stiff
if i had a drink i’ll be feeling sick
spliff, spliff, spliff
now i’m feeling l!cked
wearing red but this bud got me feeling cripped
molly, molly, molly but i ain’t on a trip
but i’m watching the molly flip
and i move it to the molly cl!ck
what you know about that molly chick?
taking molly to get her name on a trip
playing piano to make our own sh*t
cos you know we’re going sick
i’m always strapped always got the joint
and my weed sharp and it’s always on point
i take notes and i take coins
bud b*llsed off or it’s by my groin
juggle that till there’s none left
see feds, no sweat
divert, they can’t take my sh*t
on b.e.t. nah that ain’t a bet
but you might see me on the mobo’s
screaming f*ck the po*po
posing in the photo
i ride her like a moto
no recoil when i kickback
cash chunky like a kitkat
strap makes that noise like cl!ck clack
but word i don’t want to hear that
cos i’ll rather keep my life
then carryon holding a knife
i’ll rather keep on spitting
cos then i know i’m doing right
but i’mma keep trapping till the end of time
the pounds stronger then the dolla but i don’t give a dime
tryna live a life out of crime
but people want my egg fried
so man i’m moving para
but i still ball like i’m farah
hand of god like i’m mara
if you see me get out the camera
and bang i strike a pose
that’s how it goes
we’re smoking on the cheese
you eat it on toast
and bang i strike a pose
thats how it goes
we’re smoking on the cheese
you eat it on toast
wassup?

- feltz or f3ltzyy

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