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You know who it is, Jukey B, I'm back Big up Clicks, big up LittleRaskalTV Blue on the camera, BANG...big up Juvey About to smash it again with the bar session, eh? Set the bars for yous innit Listen...yeah You know me chips then, kidda you don't p*ss with it Rats caught me slipping but the divvy only missed with it Straight up survivor kid I'm riding till I'm in a ditch Licking big .9s, 25-to-life, I'm risking it I'm packing dough so lad you know I'm going watch shopping And me spot be getting hotter than the scotch bonnet When the plod are on the block you know we not stoppin They try to keep us under obs because the Glocks poppin BANG, I'm getting gwop, when the odds droppin Plod are spottin that we shottin but we stop nothin Try be snitching then we ditching, f**king Loch coffin I'm on the corner of the square like I'm DOT COTTON So give a f**k about your little games Kid you're chatting that you're ready but you're spittin names Lad I'll grip the shiv and then I stick it in your brain If you snitching then we f**king ditch you in the River Dane Since a young age, slipping in clutches If I've got the shiv kid your skin'll get punctured Acting like a divvy till you're crippled in crutches Backing out the smithy till your liver gets ruptured You're chatting that you're heavy Your lip'll get busted Don't chef with me 'chete cos your sh*t'll get butchered Spit full clips then your wig'll get pushed in Kids got chips so his crib will get RUSHED in And now the plod have put me back on bail Kid I'm rapping on the track before I'm back in jail You wanna grass up on your lads you little tattle-tale I'm pulling rats up out the traps like I'm a Patterdale And then I'm gripping on the sh*t like I'm Bull-cross Kid I'm whipping out the .5 to get you full boxed HELLO HELLO, got the lemo, the bud locked The tag? Raymond Weil and now I need a f**king HUBLOT Got a bally so I buck it right there Know the Jukey with the cally is a f**king nightmare See the picture in the paper won't be looking nice there Snitches got me raging so his drum I might burn Drum I might burn, start cutting up his face And now the f**ker might learn Brudda trust me when I'm buckin lad you're duckin right there If I do a little somethin then the somethin's nice work HA HAAAAAAAAAAA Me and Clicks got the sickest .45 Spitting off a clip and then it's hitting pure guys I'm whipping out the smith and let it rip at your sides Kids have gone to bits cos we pick up raw .9s At the age of 15, I was raking in the papes Breaking into posh kens, breaking into safes Wearing latex gloves, got no tracey for the jakes Now I'm bagging up, sick Dam hazy and the flake YOU KNOW DIS Jukey B you know I'm all about the road sh*t Wanna see the size of the .9 I roll with? And if I'm spittin lyrics then the kids like OH sh*t Sick beats every time, so I rhyme, my flows sick Biggest f**king .45 hittin somethin Jukey's driving, Clicks is lookin When we riding kids are ducking Beefin in the teefer....clips are buckin If you're getting cheeky then you know me fist will hit ye button Hard to admit though, when you're lashed in the gutter At the age of 13, slashed with a cutter Sick mind kid, classed as a nutter If I ever see the Lord then I'll blast at the f**ker Religion's pure gas like a cooker Where's Allah when I need cash for my mother? Man grass so I've gotta graft to recover No love for the system, they ask us to suffer
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