Giggs - The Blow Back lyrics

[Verse 1: Giggs] Yeah, man better know that (What?), man coming at that gang Get banged from the blow back Man better show that cheese, bang bang n***a, Kodak Man says it’s cold outside, but man’s prang, where my coat at? Man slang, where’s the coke at? Man wanna hang themselves, still bang, where the rope at? Need [?] for my drink, she ran, brang me a coke pack Tell a n***a take notes, I made him hand me the notepad sh** popped to bananas, I might pop to Bahamas Man’s living that life, I’m going shops in pajamas I leave pops in apartments, I might pop to the barbers I just stopped at the marge’s and dropped Tyler and Marcus I just jumped out of bed, I heard a knock from the gardeners I said no, not today, and what’s good? You’ve alarmed us Captains and corporals, man rock with commanders I could’ve rocked the Armani, but man dropped the Gabbana’s Back to the OG rap, scrap that acoustic Back to the OG trap, yeah that kind of music So take all your hats off, slap them at Whoo Kid Back with them two packs, yeah, that n***a new BIG Yeah I’m back n***a, new Giggs Anyone can get it, old boys or the new kids Yeah, I’m back and exclusive, yeah, I’m back and abusive I used to mack with the burger, but now I’m back for the sushi [Hook: Giggs] Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang [Verse 2: Stormzy] Yo, used to run around with a whole lot of food Ain’t got to trap, n***as know what I do Sitting in my yard with a big boy spliff And a portion of chips and a phone full of nudes Scumbag ting, honey, I’m sick Rudeboy, I can get gully like Blittz Rule number five, man, you know we never mention the price And I treat that money like Flipz And I swear down, n***as always lying in their rap hooks Probably couldn’t tell me how a strap looks Bro 6ix got the tunes on his hard drive So I tell him put the riddim on my Macbook Yeah, they love it when I go in on a grime beat They love it when I do it cause I rap good Man, I never used to have no trainers Now I’ve got bare, that’s word to my black foot Shutdown Twitter, my n***a, it’s peak Doing like a million views in a week You ain’t really f**ing with the powers I’ve reached Brothers in the church like “young n***a preach” I ain’t even got to try prove what I’m on Name’s Big Mike, I do what I want Don man talk ’bout the work that they mash But the truth is don man usually front So I f** up the game on a psycho ting Don boy there on a giro thing Coco Pops and a morning spliff Two slices of toast on a Milo ting Pen in my right hand, Biro ting Big whips, stylo ting Dem man are likkle like a micro SIM Some wasteman Toyota Aygo ting I go sick, n***a, I go in Sounds of the skeng on a Spyro ting Fire on the high road, fire on the back street Anywhere I go, it’s a pyro ting Girls go loose when the lights go dim Might go Keyshia’s, might go Kim’s I could go Charlie Sloth or go Tim’s Go to the barber shop and get trims Then I tell man you can miss me with the cyber-chat Cause n***as just talk but I’m fine with that And man wanna war on my Instagram You see, I’d love to but I’ve got a flight to catch Hashtag merky, I’d die for that The peng tings want Big Mikey back Saw my mandem blow and run the game I thank God that I was alive for that, like [Hook: Giggs] [Verse 3: Dubz] Rap titan, black Tyson Strategizing with n***as I’m categorized in A bag of pies in the kitchen, go grab a slice, then Got consignment from bruddas who seek asylum I’m the fireman, f**, I need a siren Put an instrument to your neck, just like a violin Them n***as lying, them flows, they didn’t sign them That dope ain’t got them dialling, their sofas ain’t reclining I’m like [?] in the 90s Make your baby mother go shop in her nightie No soft sh**, just pain here Man mosh pits like rock gigs Damn, watch Giggs, this ain’t fair Man drop kids like daycare Man shot sh**, man shape here Man got digis, wait here Got Rizlas, wait here Got deliverers, wait here Move over when I change gear I’m like Rudolph n***a, I’ll rain, dear Just two of my n***as in the rer-ter Beat gargoyle, sweets hard-boiled These neeks can’t toil Why? My Gs are loyal Not a baller but a brudda makes calm coil Got plants in soil, plus I dance in oil And the buj is running clean off of France’s foil Mr Officer, no comment is the answer for you And the buj is running clean off of France’s foil Mr Officer, no comment is the answer for you