Aitch - FTA Freestyle lyrics

Never lost a fight but lost
My head a couple times
I should've let 'em fuck me up to
Knock some sense into my mind
All the women that I've fucked
With no rubber on the bus
If they're ever up the duffs
Some are definitely mine
Wait, I'm just kiddin', I just writtin'
I'm just spittin'
In your girls mouth, got the puss hissin'
I love kittens i was in town with my fun
Stick on a fuck mission
Then I woke up in my mums
Crib with my cum drippin' (Ha, haha)
I'm paranoid so get prepared to grab me
Looked in the mirror then punched a
Cunt for starin' at me
I don't bust, I just lеave with my nut
'Cause, I scream whеn I fuck
And now the grippers they're all
Scared to trap me
Today I woke up, I ain't mentally there
Like, I might go and shave
The chest off my hair
I know some thoughts that we got
Ain't meant to be shared
But, I'm tired of bein' quiet
And pretendin' I care so

Most rappers are cunts 'bout as
Bad as their mums
Talkin', burnin' a pack, boy
I'm packin' your lunch call me daddy my son
Play the match and you won
Give you a pat on the back
Little slap on the bum
All these gyal on the net
Pull your pants in a sec
Sat in a car park, ass out, hands on the deck
Tryna hang from one rich man to the next
Well, if you don't have bread, bitch
Have some respect

Man are pissed about the Brit's speech
They know shit's peak, bitch, please
Listen when the king speak
Brothers bummy like some shit cheeks
Sendin' bitch tweets
Actin' like some pussy that I didn't beat
Imagine we could just say what we thought
I'll say it anyway, fuck it, play it in court
Since I broke the fuckin' bank
I ain't breakin' the law
But, if the police take my drugs
Then I'm breakin' his jaw
You got tress in the crop
Let me see what you got
Leave your cheddar lookin' like Swiss
Cheese when it's robbed
Fuck your bro, fuck your sis, fuck your team
Fuck your squad
And if I catch a man streamin' the opps
I hope, your drop your phone on your head
When you're alone and in bed i hope
You die then wake up with a hole in a chest
Then head back to that hole where
You rose from the dead
Then I'll bury you alive, while
You're holdin' your breath, bitch

Most rappers are cunts 'bout as
Bad as their mums
Talkin', burnin' a pack, boy
I'm packin' your lunch call me daddy my son
Play the match and you won
Give you a pat on the back
Little slap on the bum
All these gyal on the net
Pull your pants in a sec
Sat in a car park, ass out, hands on the deck
Tryna hang from one rich man to the next
Well, if you don't have bread, bitch
Have some respect

If you don't have bread, bitch
Have some respect