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lirik lagu fire in the streets – snap capone

[verse]
wintertime rolling round with tem
we’re still on the ends, no two for tens
n*ggas want beef, let the war commence
i’ll shoot him with the trey cause it’s excellent
new twelve gauge, i cut the nose off
now the pump’s looking like it had a nose job
all i talk is money, n*ggas b*tching why?
they had me up in jail, i did a thousand nights
my n*gga’s still trapping, lives that trapping life
me and my n*gga chess at the traffic lights
shout out my brother spiggs, home soon akh
rolling round with kurdish, jackson like i’m curtis
i got a picture from my n*gga billy
rolling round in that tt, me and my n*gga busy
i’m with my brown chick and she sold tick
twenty*five i’m talking bout a whole brick
these f*ckboys don’t f*cking know sh*t
i love toys but trust me i’m no kid
they don’t want beef, tell ’em strap up a whole clip
cashmere jumper with my f*cking gucci loafers
s&m that’s a madness
beef ’em outside like some campers
guns gon’ shoot like some cameras
i don’t play fair, catch me up in mayfair
talking business b*tch, you’ve been a pr*ck
olive skin chick from marrakesh
engaged to the streets, we ain’t married yet
i let this gun blow like a clarinet
i rep for my borough like harriet
pop tools, p*ssy n*ggas, brothels
hop out the vauxhall, pop all the streets, apostles
i’ll see you at the crossroad
two tecs, yin*yang twins
gun in my suit, big man ting
if that big suss brings man in
westfield shopping, me and bim
get a n*gga whacked n*gga okey*dokey
godfather snap call me corleone
n*ggas mad cause i f*cking speak to coley
n*ggas mad * on a roley
these f*ck n*ggas, i don’t trust n*ggas
i’m in the c*class in the cut n*gga
white tee, balmain jacket
i’m in the x3, you’re standing in the rain f*ggot
top floor panoramic
with the .45, snap capone i’m real callous
i’m a fly boy, emporio armani
i don’t wanna talk unless it involves money
guess what? this jacket’s from guess darg
i’ll shoot hit his head top, head rock
up close and personal, red dot
head, chest, neck shot
rest off, turn a n*gga cabbage, veg oh
i be in the lex with a tec darg
i don’t take chat n*gga take guap
vip lounge, we’re in the best spot
turn a n*gga’s hoodie to a vest top
s capone the vet darg
i remember days when the pack came
i had four b*tches just to bag ‘caine
we rented four cribs just to stash ‘caine
a few months later then the feds came
all my n*ggas trapping, we ain’t unemployed
got a porsche and some chips, no saveloy
speeding in the whip, all tinted out
squeezing the clip to get the devil out
i used to keep my gun in the neighbour’s house
then the council kicked my neighbours out
b*tches asking why they call me snap capone
i’m the reincarnation of al capone
never talk sh*t n*gga less is more
i’m all about the capital
i learned economics from the drug dealers
i be running the streets in my suede pumas
nothing personal n*gga owning business
i’ve got a k!ller team and she’s the witness
free my n*ggas in the jailhouse
i remember days sending mail out
my n*gga max was my next door
now we’re on the roads driving z4’s
all i talk is money n*gga where’s yours?
big .45 and a next tool
arabic chick speaking arabia
me and my n*ggas munching up in amalia’s
i might link dim for that bobby brown
ten out of ten, got the best in town
i’m on the m3 in the m3
profit this week, no less than ten g’s
talking half a box n*gga
front row seats to watch my n*gga box n*gga
rolls royce prints in my watch n*gga
cartier, machine and a glock n*gga
head shot n*gga, drop n*gga
i don’t give a f*ck about a postcode
tryna get that roley all in rose gold
n*ggas getting dropped, sh*t was meant to be
penthouse views, no rentals g
i’m talking ’bout two grand a month n*gga
you’re too broke, you ain’t got no funds n*gga
your chick left, that’s no fun n*gga
that’s why she’s round me and my n*ggas

- snap capone

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