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s13 (cge) - gang bus lyrics

[intro]
sebzbeats baby

[chorus]
mind out who jumps on the gang bus, might end up with us in handcuffs
in the field that’s dinner and bang up, on road that’s dingers and hand guns
we used to rob n-gg-s, keep their hands up, now we trap in the flats ’till the packs done
when i leave my yard my shanks tucked, but it might end up in a mans guts
mind out who jumps on the gang bus, might end up with us in handcuffs
in the field that’s dinner and bang up, on road that’s dingers and hand guns
we used to rob n-gg-s, keep their hands up, now we trap in the flats ’till the packs done
when i leave my yard my shanks tucked, but it might end up in a mans guts

[verse 1]
let me show you how the ting goes, i was cheffing man down with m and cj when we got bruck in the window
two waps up now you’re talking lingo, you don’t wanna see lil [?] let the spin go
cah you might get smoked like singles, bells in the bag you can hear them jingle
we got the drop on a opp at a party, nah the gang never came to mingle
parked round the corner and creep on the opp, and your spidey sense won’t tingle
them man there do drills on a tablet, how you do drills on a amazon kindle?
t-t-l one phone call simple, chop that slate, hit m ways and then spots get popped like pimples
knifework far but nimble, we got the young g’s way too catty, they got the .32 doing up windmill
you got bun and chinged, and i got chinged so why are you making a big deal
i’m in the trap with cats, c-ckroaches, rats, baby wipes and some cling film
astras, skodas, corsas, me and bro doing jump out gang bait on the main road doing enforcings
and we’re dishing out free smoke, why the f-ck would i dish out a warning?
hop out the ride and bore him, — can’t tell me nuttin’ ’bout touring, we score points can’t tell me ’bout scoring

[verse 2]
how many opps already held chest shots? dot-dot, rusty, no red dot
them man do their drills on a desktop, when we pull up tryna leave mans head off
dum-dum already lacked, then he got whacked, scar like lescott
pull up on smoke, the opps dem know, car doors pop or we do it on vespas
said they talk ’bout the guys, your friends just died, the opps dem clown like jesters
i’m on ’em dressed all black [?] don’t lack, shove blades in sweaters
and i heard i’m not far from the scales, man that can’t be me, man i’ve got clips with bells
don’t run, come hold one of these golden sh-lls
i had fiends throwing up in a flat while you was at gaff tryna call them girl
smoke in a ride, tryna take mans life, if i get bagged i won’t get bail
that’s what i call mission failed
i can’t go back to the pop downs on top lock down trapped in a cell, me and my friends banged up in them jails
countless times i was writing ’em mail, man got banton and light as well
man ain’t scr-pping knifes and bells, stack or rise or the pump and sh-ll
we put smoke on streets, try blow these neeks, we some local geezers
and he must be dumb, still slap it at —, man can’t tell me ’bout [?]

- s13 cge lyrics

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