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lirik lagu principium – streetz (lab tv)

[verse 1]

man wanna hear about the life mans got
no lies i bail grafts and i’ve f*cked off crops
told half the lads “leg it”, f*ck a sly man’s plot
and half these divvy rappers look like slideshow bob
tell my man, go and get the jd
shopping in flannels, i used to shop in jd
nah i’m used to getting paid g
go and strap a q and sell your buds for a wage g
yeah it’s mad how the time flies
man are tryin to tell me get back to me 9*5
but kid i’m bringing in a nice 5
grand in a month, f*ck a c*nt and his white lies
yeah it’s mad how i’m livin
daughter on the way every night she be kickin
i’m buying prams f*ck a smithen
rather raise a family than beef with a victim

[hook]
yeah listen how life’s lived
f*ck a divvy rapper taking pics of his jarg whip
you a liar in your ma’s crib
chattin ‘bar beef you went and make me make the car drift
yeah me boys stay active
hoes take pics for the net it ain’t attractive
man chat beef but their straps stay plastic
i don’t need a strap i’d whack man with a ratchet
[verse 3]

i’d whack man with a real bar
cos i’m always lyrical me pen writes real bars
yeah me flow stays pivotal
man want it, aye? that’s typical
beefin over tracks like an imbecile
you haven’t got a spine or principles
and soon come be the visuals
that’ll make em b*tch and act pitiful
and i’ll set levs’ now i’m visible
when i’m in the booth me and p make miracles (jeez)
yeah the work rates nuts
trust we been workin for the whole d*mn month
bars after bars lad me flows too much
streetz rips beats like i do with a clutch
so tell man, unless he wants crutches
don’t chat sh*t and go chill where the scruffs live

yeah listen how life’s lived
f*ck a nit chatting johns and a .45
don’t talk if there’s war kid
cos a real g squeezes at 4 nits
yeah a real g bangs straps
you a divvy acting mad in a d*mn cap
lemon am’s getting blazed when i land dam
i spit sh*t like a 9 screaming blam blam

[verse 4]

smoking on gelato, glass of amaretto
done a bit of porridge now i’m back up in the ghetto
me and my gs putting stabbings on the echo
smoking chase whipping annies in the veco’
chatting bag a nut nah you manna couldn’t get hoes
you already know i love caramel in stilettos
looking at me funny pouring glasses of presecco
my team are biggie your gang are just muy pequeño
my team are biggie your gang are just f*cking puntos
chattin that they pack and they bang, they never shoot those
chattin crime scenes and you’re blaggin, and i be shoot*o
i’ll end up wigging a man with a can of luco, woah
so say nizzy, you dizzy, you bad divvy
trust me it’s jay bizzy
i’m fizzilin that fl!cky
big haze spliffy hit you for that busy
when they let me out of prison i’m hitting up that chippy
i’ve always been a big man spitter in man’s city
always got the shiv and i’m shivvin without pity
i can get dippy so watch it with that lippy
don’t try and catch me slippin cos trust me i’m mad slippy
smoking up whiffers like i be some mad hippy
chillin with a chicky i’m givin her that d*cky
if i’ve got the piffy i’m fillin up that clippy
trust me kid the way that i’m livin it’s mad gritty
woah, no gimmicks, you see me i’ve rolled kiddas
no divvy i’m chilling with cold k!llers
spittin fast but i can still hit you with slow lyrics
when it comes to it got one of the heaviest flows spittin, like
big pitties ain’t living like no kitten
ain’t silly, i’m real it’s no kiddin
see these fake divvies chat what they did and they just didn’t
so why they be chattin they be one of the most illest?
why they chattin that they be k!llin and 9 millers
why they chattin that they be grippin and hold steelers
living how i’m living the spittin it don’t differ
if i pull it out i’d have you be skippin like stones kidda
what ye chattin sound a bit fishy, i’m no kipper
grip lizzy, trust me this city it’s so gutter
smoke bigger spliffs and we sip on that malt liquor
jumpin on the back and do viddies and smoke ciggers
on the wing we smokin so much of fish they grow flippers
chattin mad, it’s madness, it’s chicken with no pita
when i landed in manny i didn’t chill with little nippers, nah
cos i ain’t a lil’ whippet
and everybody know that the jukey is ill, digga
and even if you smashin the rappin i’m still bigger
rippin off half of you with a tommy, no hilifiger
all the boys have been through your b*tch and you’re still with her
if you’re counting scores then i be a 20*to*nil winner
chillin in prison, it only made me feel bigger, yeah
i’m stackin me money until a couple mills, innit
i’m stackin me money until a couple mills, innit

- streetz lab tv

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