P Money - ROAD RAGE lyrics
[P Money - ROAD RAGE lyrics]
P Money, Money man pon mic
Live & Direct the album, out November 25th
Yo OGs, yo
When I run up in the yard
My man was like "huh?"
Box in the mouth blud
What d'ya you mean huh?
Asked if he knows who I am, he said "nah"
Box in the mouth blud
What d'ya you mean nah?
Friday knicked, Saturday I got charged
Looked at my solicitor
What d'ya mean charged?
Told him grab that witness fast
Book a flight same night, business class
I used to reload a ni-nine BAR
Now I get reloads of the ninth bar
I'm bringing twenty man Eskimo Dance
And I'll cancel the show
What do you mean I can't?
Ten out of ten, had 'em all like rah
Man's big in UK and he's massive in Prague
Me I smack one of the set, oh God
Live on mic, you know who's in charge
Drawn, shotgun sticking out the
Bush like a thorn
Car chase looking like a scene from Bourne
Two shots at the whip, whole car sawn
Girl chose man, not been with corn
But, I still squash man's beef with corn
Man's freezing like a Winter's morn'
Teach man-a man about final form
If my chain ever got torn
Next morn', somebody's mum's gotta mourn
Under my tee, man's warm
Not even man with me is getting warned
Dup man down in the cold or warm
Bare bystanders pressing their horn
Everybody said they were gonna back Shaun
Then watched me fuck the pussy up like porn
Man have been out there, man have been gone
Ever since D Double did a riddim, I'm on
I've been rocking MA strum all year and I've
Still got jackets I ain't even worn
You'll never see me fall asleep with a sket
I'm out of that house as soon as I yawn
Tell the king, P Money ain't no pawn
I'll check one of her mates next morn'
Hey guys, 2017, can we stop these lies
All of this op talk, no one's died
Starting to wonder about both sides
One sec', lemme say what I've realised
No one's hitting no one
So all you MCs are spitting
'bout the guns you've skied
Aim in the air and say that you tried
Ha, I can tell you're a fry up guy
I don't mean bacon, sausages, eggs
I mean every morning your girl looks fried
About she's nice, swear on her life
Imagine next day when you hear that she died
Now you're hugging up her mum at the funeral
Proper acting like you don't know why
Can't blame me, you're the badman guy
Lying to yourself, dickhead guy
About Lord of the Mics, dickhead guy
Dickhead, I hate this dickhead so much I
Had to call man a dickhead twice
Getting on my nerves 'cause
Your girl can't cook
She thinks she's Mel B or Beckham's wife
Dickhead, she ain't got a clue about Spice
I don't ever wanna see her make rice
You're talking like you won't get leng
Father leng, brudda leng
All your bredrins and your girlfriend leng
Her friends leng, their friends leng
Everyone knows I'm the master with leng
But when her friends come and I get knicked
I'll be scratching my head like "Huh
What's leng?"
"Say that again, sorry Sir, what's leng?"
Back out on bail like yeah what now
You're gonna get a phonecall
Two seconds into the convo you
Be like what now?
"P Moneys outside studio now!"
See me outside, oh shit what then?
Run out the back, cool come and attack, cool
Do all of that, yeah cool, what then?
12 gauge you ain't gonna say what then
Don't nominate if it ain't grime MCs
Otherwise might do a Kanye
Run up on your stage like
"They are not grime MCs"
Ain't been on stage, stood by MCs
Don't wanna get spun by MCs
I ain't gonna find MCs, when I find MCs
I'll just drive by MCs
I don't mean drive by like drive-by
I mean, I will drive by MCs
See 'em on the pavement, spin your car
Round, reach into the door side
Grab something and ra ta ta drive-by MCs
Label money right now
I can sign MCs or buy MCs
I'll switch it up and Suge Knight MCs
Lord of the Mics, goodnight MCs
Pow, lace man in the jaw side
In the last bar I never said reach for
The glove compartment 'cause when
You're by yourself
You've gotta keep it in the door side
I wouldn't wanna be on your side
I've got youths that would
Jump out the banger
Leave their car and take your ride
Not getting rude might save your life
Who's in charge? Live on mic
You know who's in charge