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mad about bars - ofb lyrics

[verse 1: headie one]
revz just slapped it in reverse
my bro got his hands on the wheel while i fly out the ride, it’s teamwork
remember when i couldn’t fit the dots in my top, i was showing off cleavage
the last time i come out of jail, i learnt how to handle that .44 easier
i got a pack looking like multiple bags of maltesers
i went and got nicked upsuh, two ninas
now i got “intent to supply” on my previous
i can’t have beef with these eedyats
back then it was anyting green get bun, i went jail then i lost a one arm like i’m sleeveless
my pa always said i need jesus
you think i do juju
my n-ggas them think i’m a demon
headie one re-up on your food
i’m talking like am and pm
my line ringing am to pm
in the am replying to dms
same way i hit the opp block in the pm
none of my opps can’t put their hand on h, if i spray and pray, i’m believing
beef in the streets, i don’t reason
beef in the streets, get seasoned
n-ggas can’t be my g and turn their back ofb ’cause that one there’s treason
i was prison, on the wing fisting
right now i’m home and i’m still drilling
all for my gs them, i’m my brother’s keeper

[verse 2: rv]
feds said i can’t be with headz ’cause they know that’s freddy and jason
you got a hundred man in your vids but when i slide through your block it’s vacant
them n-ggas soft it’s blatant
they don’t want smoke, they’re vaping
i got a .44 long, that’s new, and a old dot, that’s asian
rv, man, i’m way too pokey
and i back guns and get smokey
headz got the hammer like four
that’s bro, i guess i gotta be loki
my team be shooting and scoring long time, should ha’ got a trophy
look, this beef ting’s deeper than rap
can’t let them do me like–
back out my ting won’t pet it
aim for your chest then wet it
can’t tell me ’bout beef or p’s ’cause i mash work and i get it
man claim they got beef with the gang but see me on the roads and leg it
when i caught man lacking in jail; no verbal, just set it
rv i’m a problem, and the other side know this
if i can’t line up a drive had to get round there and ten toes it
got a big stick like moses
fed gon’ tape up the whole strip
find out where you’re posted
brain stuck on the wall like a post-it

[verse 3: headie one]
from way back me and rev captained t like hoddle
dip down a p-ssy on the opp block, turned that whole block brothel
the last time i put in a work in a weekday, sunday i listened to some gospel
then on monday i scored from throttle, that’s me in a bruck down vauxhall
my cl-ss is a still four an’ a half of the b in the bando
feds had me locked in the c, can’t trust my bird get handled
i got this bad b coming to the nizz for the d no need for a tinsel or a nando’s
b-tch is on a ordinary fruity but there’s no need for a kiwi or mango
summertime my g’s keep the strip hot, no need for a bigga or snapple
me and front ride with the swam in the whip, no need for a fl!cky or rambo
how you gonna spend your own money on your grills but you don’t know how to fry like nando’s?
hear big guns get handled
paigons see me ten toes like a sandal
one leather on a trackie, i still make it look neat
i bust a four and a half at the press ’cause my trap game is on fleek
one leather on a trackie, i still make it look neat
i bust a four and a half at the press ’cause my trap game is on fleek

[verse 4: rv]
’09 i was ducking down opps
‘010 i was cutting down crops
‘011 i was cruddy on the streets
‘012 i was stuck in a box
fed had me riding a sentence
never had time for repentance
been a bad boy from day
i was doing lines in detention
no face, no case, no comment, fed can’t ask me no questions
i don’t do this for attention
n-ggas get got in a sevens
i got sh-lls for the dots
and i just put in two like western
so when you start adding those ks make sure i don’t get a mention
say what you want about rv, but no one’s made me a victim
chef man down with the ramsey, i don’t take knife from the kitchen
i treat opps like ac ’cause i’m tryna drop that instant
i treat opps like ac ’cause i’m tryna drop that instant
i used to get round there with blades in my hand like a wolverine
pull up, crash, them man dash, how can you call this beef?
i don’t even call this beef
i just got war with neeks
n-ggas keep talking grief
press the nine three times like i’m calling police

- ofb lyrics

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