lirik lagu juke (lab tv) - fat rat freestyle
[verse 1]
.35s, .38s, you know i’m trigger happy
rab coat, h~tips, rolling with the sickest bally
you know i catch you slipping matty
bust a .38 in your face and make your kipper skatty
i’ve had your boy braiser, chatting this and that
flappin when he’s chattin cos he hasn’t got your f~ckin back
belling me and telling me, nothing but jealousy
if i’m a fat rat then why you talking to the enemy?
come lad lets beef then i don’t care, who’s there
if i see you rats out on the road then i will shoot first
i let two burst, guarantee you f~cking run
know for a fact you’ll be flappin when you see the gun
and when i see braiser, kid i’ll f~ckin blaze ya
hollow tips will get ripped like a piece of paper
the little b~tch will get ditched i’mma do him major
and when your ribs have been shivved i’mma see you later
ha haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, cos that’s how i roll
i’ll put you in a bodybag and lash you in a hole
everyday i’ve got the f~cking punters banging on the phone
i’m after dough so you know i’ve got them bags up on the road
[verse 2]
lad ye chattin that ye packin but ye poor as a bum
and just to get a tenner draw ye doing chores for ye mum
you know it’s me, jukey b, kid i’m raw with me gun
you’re telling me you’ve got a key i’ll take the door off your drum
it’s a f~cked up life, being born in the slum
ever since a f~cking kid been breaking laws for the fun
you know i’m stacking every penny from a score to a ton
and if ye stepping on me toes kid your jaw will be done
you know it’s jukey with the rugey, little sean with a pump
if ye chatting about the beefin we turn your leg to a stump
and if i haven’t got the piece then ye getting hit with the lump
ye chatting straightners kid i f~cking break your face with a punch
cos when i’m fighting, kid i’ve got a right like a boxer
in a nice whip smashing lights from the ‘copter
fresh .45 , first night that i popped her
couldn’t blame the aim or eyesight lad i locked ye
many people want me dead cos i’m the rotten apple
there’s major money on me head but f~cking nothings happened
i’m doing anything for bread you know the glock will rattle
and i’m you know i’m painting sh~t red when that shotty clappin
getting lippy gassin, get on this divvy chattin
this little rocket in me pocket it will k!ll a dragon
if ye chatting beef on facebook you know you’re really grassin
cos i’m spitting with the illest rappers
so listen little flappers, you know this kid is crackers
run up in your crib, with a stick, f~cking split your nappers
give a couple quid, to a kid, and your wig is splattered
hitting up a lift, major quick to go and grip a package
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