Kojey Radical, Ghetts, Knucks, Swindle, Akala - BLOW YA TRUMPET lyrics
Ghetts [Justin Clarke Samuel]
[Kojey Radical, Ghetts, Knucks, Swindle, Akala - BLOW YA TRUMPET lyrics]
Yo they say no man is an island
But I left island had to do my ting
If I sense any sign in
Your eye that you're trifling
It's "bye" no fussing or fighting
Seen all they drops the same already
Seen all buss downs and chains already
Save your drip, made it rain already
Pissed off 'ca my cup
Couldn't take more henny let's discuss it
Wanna tell lies to the public?
Cool, if you like it I love it
But true, I'm that guy in the function
Spit fire leave shit alight
Like a Bunsen burner man will grill beef
You don't want this burger
Money filthy, a disgusting earner wordup
That's ya luck it's gone further
Do a man like Klashnekoff it's (murdеr)
Getting dough on the front end
Can't takе man for a prick, no thorn
I don't need no horns I blow my own trumpet
Thank road for the funding
Only bro knows how it's rolled into hundreds
Lizzie gone rogue, pink notes in abundance
Did all my bicep curls and my lunges
True say, you ain't yourself when you hungry
Coldest i don't know how you ain't noticed
Without Ghetts there ain't no list
Your new shit's like my old shit
Your old shit was just so shit hold it
Who wants smoke? I'll roll it
Who wants rope? I'll hold it
Let's play hangman
How do I know you ain't got no hearts?
X ray and scan
Them man haven't been transparent
But I know the minerals they've got missing
Indirects after indirect
Just bare subliminals they've got written
I don't wanna play fill in the blanks
I'd rather play fill up the bank
Easy, think of a plan
Meet me, pick up a shank
BP, fill up the tank
I was in the cold, no comfort
Grade 8s in music that's why I
Can blow my own trumpet
I'm a sellout
I ain't got room for a hundred
I can only look down on people who gossip
I stay 22 rumours above them fuck them!
Yo when the beat intro drops and
You're screwing your face
And you're blowing your top
A shot no fighter could block
A weight nobody could spot
Beats, we are burning 'em
London to Birmingham
'Course you have heard of 'em
Fellas are shellers
We're perming them, permanent
Jump from this plane but diss
Man for the turbulence
Plane we observing on so far above
That it gets kinda burdensome
They are not ready for shells
That we're serving them
Food for your thought like I'm swallowing
Murdering
Your stomach is weaker than Wurzle is
My word on it i'm earning it
These scriptures I speak they're
Just learning it street shit in deep shit
Like Ancient Egypt and 3 clips
Like read this and take in your teachers
If he flips then break face of idiots
He's quick to make pace 'cah he's sick
And these pricks they gave chase but he slips
Not a day in your life
I tell you these grips
Blood they grip on the track better than V6
And when I've written a rap
I'll tell you these dicks
They couldn't bust if they gave em 3 chicks
A whole load of crumpet
No bro, you don't blow your trumpet
I roll over dunces i throw loads of punches
Dickheads are lunches
Back, back, gimme space, gimme
Why the devil wan' spar with me?
I been around, been around for a sec'
I need TLC like Left Eye
When shit got peak man left, I
Now my heart turn black like Wes Snipes
Sniper watch a man shed skin like viper
Drop 2, 2 bars when I like her
No coming back like Rikers
All that drip but you're not impressive
Spark my thoughts, pen my lessons
Man can't talk too much 'bout blessings
Them man there might think I'm flexing
But I left island had to do my ting
If I sense any sign in
Your eye that you're trifling
It's "bye" no fussing or fighting
Seen all they drops the same already
Seen all buss downs and chains already
Save your drip, made it rain already
Pissed off 'ca my cup
Couldn't take more henny let's discuss it
Wanna tell lies to the public?
Cool, if you like it I love it
But true, I'm that guy in the function
Spit fire leave shit alight
Like a Bunsen burner man will grill beef
You don't want this burger
Money filthy, a disgusting earner wordup
That's ya luck it's gone further
Do a man like Klashnekoff it's (murdеr)
Getting dough on the front end
Can't takе man for a prick, no thorn
I don't need no horns I blow my own trumpet
Thank road for the funding
Only bro knows how it's rolled into hundreds
Lizzie gone rogue, pink notes in abundance
Did all my bicep curls and my lunges
True say, you ain't yourself when you hungry
Coldest i don't know how you ain't noticed
Without Ghetts there ain't no list
Your new shit's like my old shit
Your old shit was just so shit hold it
Who wants smoke? I'll roll it
Who wants rope? I'll hold it
Let's play hangman
How do I know you ain't got no hearts?
X ray and scan
Them man haven't been transparent
But I know the minerals they've got missing
Indirects after indirect
Just bare subliminals they've got written
I don't wanna play fill in the blanks
I'd rather play fill up the bank
Easy, think of a plan
Meet me, pick up a shank
BP, fill up the tank
I was in the cold, no comfort
Grade 8s in music that's why I
Can blow my own trumpet
I'm a sellout
I ain't got room for a hundred
I can only look down on people who gossip
I stay 22 rumours above them fuck them!
Yo when the beat intro drops and
You're screwing your face
And you're blowing your top
A shot no fighter could block
A weight nobody could spot
Beats, we are burning 'em
London to Birmingham
'Course you have heard of 'em
Fellas are shellers
We're perming them, permanent
Jump from this plane but diss
Man for the turbulence
Plane we observing on so far above
That it gets kinda burdensome
They are not ready for shells
That we're serving them
Food for your thought like I'm swallowing
Murdering
Your stomach is weaker than Wurzle is
My word on it i'm earning it
These scriptures I speak they're
Just learning it street shit in deep shit
Like Ancient Egypt and 3 clips
Like read this and take in your teachers
If he flips then break face of idiots
He's quick to make pace 'cah he's sick
And these pricks they gave chase but he slips
Not a day in your life
I tell you these grips
Blood they grip on the track better than V6
And when I've written a rap
I'll tell you these dicks
They couldn't bust if they gave em 3 chicks
A whole load of crumpet
No bro, you don't blow your trumpet
I roll over dunces i throw loads of punches
Dickheads are lunches
Back, back, gimme space, gimme
Why the devil wan' spar with me?
I been around, been around for a sec'
I need TLC like Left Eye
When shit got peak man left, I
Now my heart turn black like Wes Snipes
Sniper watch a man shed skin like viper
Drop 2, 2 bars when I like her
No coming back like Rikers
All that drip but you're not impressive
Spark my thoughts, pen my lessons
Man can't talk too much 'bout blessings
Them man there might think I'm flexing