Warm Up Sessions

[Intro]

SB

Yungen, Money 1st

[?] the mandem

Barz, E, Teo, Skinz, Ham, Jay, Swag, Nerves

[Verse 1]

I'm tryna blow, I ain't really tryna see a jail bus

I'm looking up because I've been through the hell trust

I've got my girls up

I'm on the ball to be first, someone put ice in my World Cup

Ah, like who's in my bracket?

The metaphor's a lighter, these dudes couldn't match it

Fronting he's a bad boy but can he hack it

'Cause I'ma turn him back to front if I slap it

'Cause I be kicking, thinking about my dead cousin

Thinking 'bout my past, tryna push my ex buttons

I'll be sipping Yak thinking should I redrum him?

We get them bass sticks out and leave his head drumming

I've got the browning forking out the lead

Tell him mind how it's talking, I'm all about the head

I'm hustling for hard dough so I can eat a king's meal, basically I'm all about my bread

They're saying I'm on fire, na I ain't tryna cool off

I'm doing kind of well, I ain't tryna fall off

My speech marks I'm the best under 21 but I'm just tryna be the best full stop

But it's peak 'cause I'm stuck in this pepper war

Where over a little picture, the weapons draw

I can get a whore

I just give her a punchline and she'll know exactly what I met her for

They say talking road I will never make it

But I don't live a fairy tale, so why fake it

'Nough man make believe, I don't rate it

But sign me for a two pack and we'll see some changes

Uh, I'm talking cribs, Ranges

I can't watch, I ain't into all that chain shit

I rearrange shit

I've got some metal that handles a whole bag of teeth, can you brace this?

They say the game's their's, but the game's our's

How can the game be their's if they cowards

I've been doing this for months, weeks, days, hours

Dug 'em on another level, ask Dane Bowers

I go so in, now they notice

They're comparing me to Ne-Yo, I'm so sick

'Cause everything that I'm saying, they quote it

Straight up man, I'm even on my own dick

Real talk, they be loving if I'm dead

I still get hood dough but it ain't covering my head

I ain't tryna be 21, hustling a Z

I'd rather eat the cake with the custard on the edge

Now there's so many man I've deserted, I'm tryna break fast without no porridge

And I'm the proof that they overrate college

Jesus pieces just to show we make profit

And when we riding out, we don't call phone

I'm tryna slap about 3, bring the ball home

Mr. Put it in her stomach, call me gallstones

I literally make a whore moan

[Verse 2]

I ain't tryna make my ball sink

So I always go in first, then I let them all drink

Like what the fuck he on? That's what they all think

I get head from the queen while she's dressed in all pink

Get it, check it, my royalty's pathetic

I'll be living on William's hill if I bet it

I'm tryna go nationwide without no credit

And Abbey wants to fuck but I'm telling her forget it

Money 1st, I'm just tryna get my grands up

I've got my stick in Lloyd banks, hands up

I send dough to my brudda Stiff banged up

Knowing I ain't there with him, thank fuck

'Cause I go OTT to get hard Ps

I'm tryna start something cut with no car keys

I'm done with the gang ting, I'm just calm [?]

But if I ain't got my stick, I'ma bark Lee's

[Verse 3]

Listen, Reece just died, it's like I can't go bed

I'm on the case, I don't conversate with no feds

I am no beg

Height six foot, size six foot, a bag of girl like my bow legs

And these days it's like the ends have been so dead

So I just kick while the workers link the dopeheads

I'm after cheese so I don't jam if there ain't no bread

Chocolate girl that I beat 'til there ain't no spread

I'm in my own league, there's no one like me

Swag's mad, I only rock it if it's pricey

Plus I've got a thing for a lightey

That likes to wear short short skirts like she's primary

She asked me what I do, like what's my occupation

She like a 9 to 5 could never pay the guap I'm making

I'm like listen babe, I'm always chop and changing

She asked me so much that I chop and changed it

'Cause I will die for my Ps

My angle's the right one, 90 degrees

Take that to Fahrenheit and that gon' be my heat

So don't talk my name unless you're talking the elite

I think they mistaking me

They underrating me

I make your album shit, they mixtaping me

I've got a flow, I'm getting dough so they hating me

But they don't understand the more they hate, the more they making me

Like, I ain't trying to get into politics

I've got an A-Level flow, college shit

Plus I've got a bag of dons that I'm on it with

Busting off my ting since 14, this is honest shit

'Cause we was moving bricks

So we moving sticks

I heard he had one too, he wasn't using it

Me I was shooting it, main road loose with it

Me, Barz, Lou on the block, back of lunatics

Tell him keep up, I'm on the highway gone

And I ain't fucking with him, sideways don

Tryna usher me, talking 'bout my way's wrong

Ice cube on the pinky, got my Friday on

I've got the biscuit in my custom jeans

Uh, and I ain't talking 'bout no custard creams

Nowadays I don't fuck with fiends

I've got the youngers on the job, I make a call and they just run me P

Like, so the older dons rate me

Nineteen, I started this when I was eighteen

I'm tryna get my foot in the mainstream

Broad day, headshot, shouting 'bout a daydream

[Outro]

Dun kno, mandem

SB

Yungen