lirik lagu flames - mad about bars
[–part 1–]
it’s that lion out that lion den
your boys don’t confide in them
she told me that her boyfriend’s acting up, i told her line him then
i’m coming out of highgate, that’s the gutter where i grew
where half the hood are shotters, the other half smoke food
they say that i’m too crazy, that i move too loose
i don’t think there’s a drug that mini couldn’t move
they’re mad about my bars so i hit london with the mandem
while i’m down here i linked my pretty shawty from camden
it’s funny, she finds my brummie accent amusing
f-cked her so good she’s tryna force a man to move in
like woah woah woah, steady on love
i told her it’s only gonna work if she holds my gun
shout my guy rc cah that’s my f-cking bro
he’ll never snake me, i don’t care how much he looks like shiro
but enough of the banter, have the hammer when we roll
it’s still bap-bap-bap even though we’re fresh home
friends keep telling me that my head’s gone
cause i dropped out my legals and tried to hit him in his dome
feds found fifty grand when they raided my crib
the next week i made ‘like me’ and put another fifty in the vid
that one was for the sucker
tried to lock a brudda up and give him pukka
got a lot of stresses that i stay on top of
sorry but no i’m not your average rapper fam
cause yes i’ve got bands but my tracksuit’s from matalan
this one’s for my stackers, i don’t know about hatton’s
i stacked h-lla grands to make sure my family’s patterned
yeah they talk tough but are they real like me?
cause yeah we all went jail but they rid voluntary
me, i was on my blower, need a parcel, what’s the hold up?
sending nitties out on visits like “go get it you little doughnut”
but i can’t lie, them late nights had a brudda moving moist
on the phone getting turned on just by the sound of her voice
[–part 2–]
i’m walking round with this metal on my hip
they don’t wanna try the kid but i wish a brudda would though
i’m paranoid as f-ck so i’ve got my ting topped
even when i’m with my girl in the cinema
i hit the trap, i ain’t tryna go back
i’m just tryna stick you in a villa ma
so you know, i take the fun with the grief
just like i mix the grub with the greaze
ask these streets, i’ve slapped on these neeks
then went home to watch nanny mcphee with my niece
your sh-t ain’t buss down, man that sh-t looks glazed
the thc glitters more on my haze
had to tell paige she’s not my bae
then remembered “oh sh-t, i’ve got a crop in her place”
i better watch my tongue
before i say something dumb, end up with my crop gone
schooled these yutes like they’re daniel-son
i’m mr miyagi, wax off wax on
let me teach you how to crop, stick some soil in a pot
plant your seed in that pot, put some lights on top
three months let it grow, nah four months tops
so g-ssed when you finally give that tree a chop – i know
tell me why the feds on me
probably cause i grow green and i do it in bulk
probably cause i made more than her last year
and a brudda wasn’t even on road
i need to get away from this place
same time i don’t wanna cause i love it, it’s my hood bro
i’m walking round with this metal on my hip
they don’t wanna try the kid but i wish a brudda would though
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