Can someone tell me does this feel real?
Little Frenchy weren't the real deal
Lying 'bout his brother
Don't believe him. It's all spilled milk
If I saw him, then I'd wrap him like a meal deal
Grab him by his collar, scruff his hair up, make him feel ill
Little white boy, acting gully. Needs a chill pill
Hanging 'round with people for the image. It don't feel real
Just go to laugh and keep the real sealed
Just silly little cunts
How could you ever fucking kill Bill?
Never could they kill me
Had to see my brothers die from heroin
It's filthy
Like "Fuck! I feel so guilty"
The streets. They never built me
I swear they made it worse
First, it was my aunty
Then my brother in that fucking hearse
Think I'd lie about the stupid little life I lived?
Move to England. Show my cousins all the knives I hid
And all the ones they bought
I remember days when I was shooting out the window
With his rifle when I was feeling bored
But you wouldn't understand
'Cause you're just such a little gangster in your head
I guess you lived on your Instagram
Six foot. Two face. Scars from the scraps I've had
Stone-cold eyes from my battles
Like I'm Galahad or maybe Lancelot
I'm pretty handy with my sword
But you can't ask a lot
Pussy, go and dance it off
I raise a glass to God
If they knew just how it felt to be a Catholic when I'm from, you'd keep it out your gob
I got Saint Michael on my shoulder through my darkest times
Been through war. I've held a body
Now, my brothers died
Your life's been hard, but your excuses eat you up inside
My life's been tricky, but shit happens. I just grab the mic
Close my eyes
Hear you laughing in the background of this image in my head, when you were still alive
Stars align
I've got courage in my blood
I'm the descendant of a King that's on my mother's side
And when I get a hold of a gun
I wanna shoot my rival straight in his lungs
And drive away to the sun
Sorry, mum. I know you listen I'm done
I guess I'm working on myself, when I run
But I'm a crazed little cunt
Might be smoking a blunt
Or maybe fighting for fun
If you knew my situation, then it's father to son
My older brother was drunk
But even he had more about him than these industry bums
The party's only begun
Sorry, Obi. have I said something wrong?
Don't want to start to hurt their feelings with the bars in my songs
Don't want to hit them in the nerve and tangle up with their thongs
'Cause I can mix a bath with acid, if it ever goes wrong
Grab the fucker by his legs and bring them others along
And then I chuck them in the potion like I'm Wizard of Oz
Fuck it
I'm only messing, of course
If you're my enemy, then strengthen your doors
Unless you're ready for war
It's funny how I felt this way from the start
The cheeky fuckers never played in a part
But still they ask in advance
All the favours I create in the dark
But when I'm lost, they can't relay me a path
I just sit back and I laugh
Grab the Mrs a glass
Might stick on the television while the zoots getting past
Hold a marvelous arse
All my life I've walked towards the mirage
And I ain't stopping like affordable cars
I'm a G. Not a star
I'm a G. Not a bag
I think the parents didn't realize, when they dropped on their head
'Cause if you think you're getting rich from masturbating in bed
Then you're a silly little prick that never see the success
I made a way for the rest
Every track I molest
Used to shot along the ocean with some pussy like a pest
Fuck a snitch to the death
It's been a difficult year
But I ain't stopping for no typical tears
I grab a spliff and a beer
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
