lirik lagu jungle – r1(7th)
[intro]
beats by yamaica productions, baby
[verse]
mind where you step
in the dance, we party with chocolates
i beg man, don’t disrespect
stepped in, lookin’ like a full star
with them trackstars from the ends
man can’t tell me ’bout mileage
i been skiddin’ ’round in cyprus
like, where’s wally? where’s wally?
sh*t, i can’t find him
was in becky so much
that the feds would’ve took my license
all these newschool gangsters talking badness
til’ their whole face shot, sadness
they ain’t seen no point of paper
them boy broke, yeah, them boy ain’t got a paper
h*ll, gotta wall of jus
i’ll still get whacked off the cherry, free lankz
them boy know that we turn up anywhere
slap off anywhere gang
7, that’s 7 to the world
now all these b*tches wanna hang
n*gga, we was so damm broke
remember times man go ‘n got t**th for the mash
now the trapline rings off crazy
my youngers wear boot cuts
‘cah he walks with the dot*dot lately
i chose my path
i rid my time, didn’t say sh*t
when snarez pulled up in the range
should’ve seen most man’s faces
the way i get rid of dark in the light
would’ve thought that i’m racist
i run man down with my nikes
kick man down, imagine sets
5 bills up in the trap
now, it’s rack to racks, i can’t be stressed
still, more money, more problems
do you know how much hammers we lost, then?
free c, got bagged with the 410
c blackz just wanna slap more men
walk in my jungle
it’s either you shoot or get shot in my block if you stumble
hitting civilians, thinking they’re scoring
some assh0l*s
they ain’t got heart in the ride, that’s certain
when the hotline rings, we’re working
and this 3.5, i’m burnin’
i walk ’round newham with my chest up
‘cah there’s not one n*gga i’m fearin’
murkz said he saw a black man, timing
when we get that brudda, we swervin’
how many times have we had to step out?
man, it’s like these kids ain’t learnin’
and the fiends pull up
just to say how nice that b was burnin’
but, let’s stop right there
that n*gga got shot in his head
still, they never got ’round here
they talk and they chit and they chatter
should’ve never got gang mad up
i told these n*ggas, “don’t lack
cah you can owe corn like supper”
my young boy have to walk with heat
all my n*ggas real trappers
i see the rap ting crazy
so much victims come like they badman
they talking guns they can’t buy
stop talking ’bout your dead line
them n*ggas, old guys broke
if i put them on, they live life
word
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