Pak-Man - Mad about bars Part 4 lyrics

Knee deep in these streets
Hella years I been about
Wanna stop me do it properly
Then you gotta lick me down
Any gyal I walked out dropped out pissed
Cah my lifestyle different now
She da one that’s missing out
Put my auto into sports mode it’s missing now
Can’t chill I’m going hard till
I stack a million pound
This money make my world change
I forgot that girls name
Silly little bird brain
Pull up on my old block
And I’m in suttin new who da fuck are you
This 5th kicking like buckaroo
Your squads full of weirdos
Got my foreign clock was on zero
God father know Robert De Niro
Spent Ps up in harrods g keys were valarie’s
Fiends were my salary dreams turn reality
Where I’m from’s crazy
But nothings gunna phase me
Out here from early blow 30 on a AP
Girls want my baby
She says she wants my baby chill
Now she feeling like she missy
Saying can you pay my bills
Bitch I can buy your crib
Slip imma fly your wig
Rich how I’m tryna live
Risking my life for this
It was embarrassing when I never had a thing
Now I ring dan I need 8 grand to grab a ring
20 on my wrist in the gym while I have I swim
Still dripping
Roof still missing like madeleine
Coupe or a drop whip and man said I lost it
I came back like work in a pot did
I got this i need it ASAP
Word to my pockets on job one God
Word to the Prophet
Payback burnt on my conscious
And I ain’t concerned with the nonsense
I’ve seen grams turn into boxes
Your family a load of cunts
You can’t even throw a punch
Hating cos I’m blowing up
Funny how shit change
I forgot that pricks name in Spain
Big chains wrist game insane
VS diamond my whole team shining
Been grinding green like things
Bro keep silent
People know I’m out ere for real
I need a house on the hill
Where I don’t hear not police sirens
Alone in my thoughts I get lost in em
Thousand miles in four days
I been on missions been consistent
Certified bread earner
Any chick you see me with
Guaranteed head turner
Your fuckin with a star
50 grand coupe when I switch the car
6 bills a night when I hit the spar
I’m sorry for the stress that I caused mum
I was out ere tryna stack me some more funds
I’m sorry I couldn’t be the
Son that you wanted
You found drugs in my closet
Then you flushed all the profit
On the block with the junkies
Got lost in the game like jumanji
Now my kicks cost me a monkey
Chill at the best spots in the country
Hop outta drops in Givenchy
Buying watches in Bromley
Been through trials and tribulations
Them snitches in the station
Still giving statements
I’m rolling with Jamaicans, Africans
White boys and some on it Asians when
I’m on the pavement