pak-man (uk) - verified lyrics
[verse: pak-man]
it’s deeper than rap, it’s real life
i’m the same little yute you saw in hills side
difference is now i blow a bag when i feel like
so i ain’t signing sh-t unless a deal’s right
and i don’t give a f-ck about the sh-t you’re spitting
i nearly lost my life to sit in this position
you feel my presence, ’bout to execute a different vision
custom pennants, bruddas walkin’ through the city blingin’
i’m round k!llers, chillin’
all about my cake like mr kipling
lifestyle expensive like the spliff i’m billin’
’bout to do a thousand hours in the booth
before that i spent a long time up in the kitchen
forget the small talk, i been through all sorts
i was chillin in the midlands on the 24th floor
up in birmingham, sitting with a curvy ting
open up my louis duffle, got about 30 in
babygirl you know my b-lls’ bigger than my burner is
i’m still tryna earn a quid, i ain’t tryna burn a bridge
what kinda life is this? i ain’t got a wife and kids
turning liquid to solid, i’m like a scientist
still remember when i never had a pot to p-ss in
now my money long for all the opposition
i seen a lot of man crumble when the pressure on ya
treating tramps like ants the way i’m steppin’ on ya
i’m fresher than ever just check the leather bomber
if i like her and wife her might put a kettle on her
she got her own dough but i don’t wanna take nun from her
now i go versace baby when i wanna
i just counted out 28 racks
get your face slapped, p-ssy i don’t take chat
what’s my world like? i gotta stay strapped
i could change your girls’ life with this straight cash
surrounded by these pretty women i ain’t richard gere
i got a load of different people saying it’s my year
i got the whole country listening to my new sh-t
i’m verified in the streets without a blue tick
them old boys washed, they’re like 40 and hating
your brudda held corn already, you’re still talkin’ to paigons
i’m baggin’ up a bird now, i coulda bought me a sp-ceship
sporting the latest, p-ssy i ain’t walkin’ round naked
you was never once rolling in your car with semis
i have my strap up in the barbers like nas in belly
i just got a good trim and gave the barber twenty
i’m in the ‘ood still i should be in the charts already
i was 3 askin’ mummy why my father left me
lookin’ back i’d say “b-tch [?] are messy”
now my bruddas coppin’ larger bezzies
same time i need to give my marge [?]
fast life, done things i regret, and i can’t lie
i mash a hundred bags before my granddad had a gl-ss eye
i thank allah that i made it through those dark nights
it’s a hard grind
this game ain’t done, it’s only half-time
i’m still the flyest man in the ends don
your girl suck my d-ck driving down the m1
don’t try it yourself, you might crash the car
it’s givenchy up in paris, blowin’ racks in france
i ain’t messing with no doughnuts like krispy kremes
you’re f-ckin’ with some grownups with some big machines
i’m about to blow up, bout to hit the screen
got my dough up now i’m cleaner than mr sheen
this boss sh-t’s in my dna, it’s in my genes
baby said she see big pak in her dreams
your ex-man’s a snitch, in the station spilin’ beans
bosses at the table, we’re the winning team
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