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[Intro: Tags & Mr WOT]
Jamma
Fresh Money
Yo, Dublin, big up yourself, you dun
Obviously, it
Crud!
Maud!

1: J.B2]
Man back your mash and bop with a sauce
And splash cash, she bop with the edible, oh
Blue lights, see
I don't know to-to do
cattin', uh, bueno
Fishing-fishing, lost,

2: Russ]
Fuck-fuck yutes, they're irrelevant
Infected, they need
On 'ting, if you're from Bellingham
One man up, way too
Slide with the broom Harry, uh
Sexed on your bae, no
Akhi, and yang, I been trappy
Fly lick the shots in the alley

[Verse 3: J.B2 &
Michael Jackson twist up your
Chat again, man pattern the
Arsenal, bro, cover Welbeck, run
Big man on the touched; likkle-likkle
Na, uh-uh, today can't
up my lead tongue, Skittle-Skittle
Baby 'pon me, jiggle-jiggle
Got the and skeet tryna surf on pum

[Verse 4:
Michael Jack, in the crutch
Pretty and a whole load of butt
Ching him up, tryna take out guts
Boom-boom, bang, got two in the
Like, bro, was you thinking?
it out, now the yutes sprinting
Let 'em have it, let the pain in
Shoot, slap it off blinking

5: Chuks]
I don't even talk too much
All faggots know we put poles in dingers
I get DS to back his shank or get big bro to back his spinner
They don't wanna see in the cold, bro
Had shook and turned them sprinter
How many have we run down Adz?
Got chased shanks, some stupid nigga
Got caught in the while sleeping
How the fuck can I this beefin'?
They want this index squeezing
Regz in the so your bitch ain't leaving
How many times did they up bro?
I backed my shank, don't need me a
Wait 'til shh comes on ends
Cah 'til he does; I won't creeping

6: J.B2 & Mr WOT]
Who's-who's nigga?
You ain't badder than us, shit
Kway-kway, up the spliff and lit
She just the sex, lick tit
me, daddy
When I bop her
nut it in Kelly
Finna ugh, no
When I lick that, tryna get this teddy
give chit-chat

[Verse 7:
See the taking off so rapid
Back out my shank, it's back in jackets
And the gyal there so ratchet
Opp's gon' cuff they come like faggots
I done slept in the no blankets
Had to put all my in baskets
And they put all my food in
done bag all my clothes in packets
It's the life I live, where you never see man
I ain't never YJ so gassed; made the grub disappear like David Blaine
It's like Remi done put out a diss track, then got on the rassclaat plane
It's got my back hurting so I gotta smoke the Mary Jane
Huh?
I shoulda known
I put holes in tops so the pigs send home letters
I got 'round with a sawed-off dots, yeah they say I'm a

Man J.Sav really stop dipping
have to go sew sweaters
Tryna get a mans top
doin' up love letters
I can't trust no female, you can call me
I got no feelings
So I'm out here breaking
I'm tryna get that target
in your head like I'm playing darts

[Outro: Mr
Crud!