[Verse 1: Giggs]
The banana that the goons took
Ain't nothing like them ones in Baloo's book
No, you can't use my car, use your two foot
Late night in that trap with the food cook
Man's so poetic
Two phone calls then man goes to get it
Steak well-done, think man won't fillet it
Shave off Ps, think man won't Gilette it
Drink up, now that bitch Amaretted
This that Prezi Obama edit
G's so heavy, he's harder-headed
He's so sick that he's after medics
I'm bringing my Glock round to party
That pussy get chopped down, karate
And knock it right back to the future
That pussy get Doc Brown and Marty'd
Yeah, women'll flock round Ferrarris
But women are pop down fi caan mi
I'm digging that soft brown punani
The women ah swarm me, they want me
I remember when man had two phones
One was personal, one's to move stones
Just left Tina's, back to Tyrone's
Dropped off Peter's, had to fly home
Just got back and bagged a wide load and
Trap got hot, I have to lie low and
Man got rapped, the MAC, he got stolen
Youts got gassed, man had to console 'em
They're thinking they lock down the jungle
I'm ready to rock, roll and rumble
MAC sound is Snow White
The Glock sound's Rapunzel
I heard that yout's got the high grade
I'm looking to lock down a bundle
I'm looking at ice queen to run to
Then give her a baby like Rumpel
[Verse 2: Kyze]
Guess who's back on the corner?
Two not guiltys, fuck the informer
Yo Giggs, them Ds are out of order
Locking up an innocent man, fam, that's torture
Anyway, man's back and that's a good look
Phoning old gyal like she's back in man's good books
Man's a gyalist, man got gyal hood hooked
She heard about the beat, she don't care about man's good looks
That line deserved a couple bloop bloops
Expect nothing less from this nicely rhymed hood crook
Seasoned, I can sell you that cookbook
But man's hungry so you might get that buj took
Man's home and the vibes are all wavy
Got couple hot gyal on my Insta gone crazy
So if you see me in your ends in the PM
It's probably cause she sent me the poom poom through the DM
Catch me with Big Zeeks in the BM
Rolling past the haters like we can't see them
That's a lie, why? I can't pretend
They're the inspiration like we can't be them
Oh wow, I'm feeling myself
If you know you're a prick, go and beat up yourself
If I was you, I would beat off a shelf
Let the whole world know that I'm bad breed as well
Gunman but your gun got no shells
Weed man but your ganja don't smell
You man are stuck with that grub that won't sell
Man, step out of the dance, you man got no girls
Summertime punani's gone mad
Do it for my young G cuh my dargy's on tag
Party, have a word with them slags
Going home with two birds for the bird that man had
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