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triple threat - blade brown lyrics

[intro]
800 hertz
ayy

[verse: youngs teflon, mental k & blade brown]
i don’t wait for the green or red, like, i put my feet down on amber
got hoes from the west callin’ for the sheck, alexa, play ‘mo bamba’
i ain’t never been into the fist fights, more like a .44 handler
more smoke than shisha, man’s giving out cancer
just dropped him a pack and i know what it weigh so the boy can’t tamper
.44 long on the side of my waist, so you know this ain’t no banter
old school, i used to walk home, mum said, “son, don’t talk to the strangers”
she don’t know i had a four and a baby away in the manger
the guard came through so i cashed out, opps on the block, bring the waps out
how much corn got dashed out?
twelve summers, got the racks out
twelve runners in the traphouse
twelve gunners with their mac’s out
i spent three summers in the jailhouse
i got three hunna in the safe house
did four seasons in four seasons, insta b-tches getting takeout
free my n-gg-s, let ’em break out, they obbo n-gg-s on the stakeout
five quid for a fours now
true say, it’s a flake drought
all of my n-gg-s be juggin’, it run in their veins
i give ’em the sample, they test it and see how it run in their veins
i let my man post it but i’m the one with the chain
my young n-gg-s flames, grab it and run on the mains
been juggin’ for over a decade, i put like a ton on the mains
they watchin’, they grabbin’, they schemin’
yeah, that sh-t come with the fame
man go jail, talk sh-t in the can, it’s mad cah none of them changed
they got caught for a broad day splashing, rid it, came out and done it again
still wanna map on mapper
i was controlling the wing when se got bagged with the wapper
the hood’s hot, it’s frying, ain’t beef, it’s snapper
d boys and clappers
shooters and trappers, them boy are just rappers
stretch it, cheff it, grub or the wap, man pressed it
i was sitting down with the minions, with a battery scales, no electric
walk in the park and test it
the last works was epic
one in the head, i selec’ it
i don’t shot for n-body, i still got my own land
b-tches thinking i’m a gold mine
scaley on but i got no time
three strikers by the goal line
balotelli with the .45
fat ronaldo back in 05
or cr7 back in 09
pretty little thing, covered in blt, i dropped gmt
same time merc dropped clc’s
i came a long way from the three on three’s, now it’s keys on keys
breaking bricks in bxb
these hoes play hard to get, but now i get it, it ain’t hard to get
buss down, that’s after set
tryna cop me the large patek
got down like half the set, shootings in half a sec
big guns like a army ex
that’ll tear off half your neck

- blade brown lyrics

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