Juke - LAB TV - Bar Session feat. Clicks lyrics

[CLICKS] I know a kid called co*k sniff he's tighter than the locksmith He smokes weed with half a quiff but still boxes it It's not the rogative I'm all about the positive I'm making money on the sly kid it's obvious That I'm making moves, you're just chasing views Stop thinking that you're sick kid and make your move I've been brought in the game kidda not to lose And when I'm on the bevvies kid you know I'm getting chews So get down on your knees you dirty little b**hes I'm sick of snitches and the police taking f**ing pictures Cause I'm cutting out the middle man Pa** the joint take a picture call it instagram You talk sh** on the road then you miss a man You get wrapped in the sheet just for pissing fam You get lost in the woods couldn't give a damn I slice your face bail the board I've got the sickest plan I pack the heat on the road and let me show your nan I bring the beef to your grill like a metal pan So I'm just chilling, Jukey's just k**ing You're chatting pure lemo kid you know that it's penicillin And you know that I'm willing got the blade on my side like I'm cooking in the kitchen Tie ups and robberies, that's how we living life I've got the sickest flow, sharper than the sickest knife Packing heat on the road and let me show you twice You chat the beef kid you might as well pay the price So put the money in the bag do as you're told It's North West where the boys bury rats in the cold So say I'm not Scouse, I grab the strally and the bally run straight through your house I got an oz of weed on strap and I'm bumping it You're never getting paid kid stop fronting it Acting big but we know you're really full of it You got robbed in the game kid you're just a muppet We're smoking pure cheese, I'll catch you slipping in Tesco and wig you with a tin of beans So don't bother giving sh** like my mother, I'll slap him in the face couldn't give a sh** get your brother [JUKE] Trust I'd do ye, the .38 Ruger, the 9 mil Luger, will rip right through ye f** that sh** ye wanna be a fistfight loser Don't fistfight cause then the little b**h might sue ye I'd rather give a leggy, the pit might chew ye Ye might go white lad the kid might spew ye But ye think I give a sh**, f** that, I'll BOOT ye No messing when I put it in ye chest and shoot ye Got birds that I link, no time for boozin I know I'm getting drinks, no time for losin Kid he's whipping out a shiv no time for choosin Backin out the fifth and it's time to shoot him, yeah Cause ye wouldn't understand the pa**ion till ye bang a strap ye'll never get the gist of gangster rappin' Straight bad lad, done me licks and had me bashings Now I've got bags of stacks of dirty cash in Yeah, and I've got the shotty firing He's getting bodied for a hobby and it's nothing silent I'm getting guap up on the spot because the block are violent I put the bob up on the gog and then the jocks are dialin' Ye wanna bodybag a noddy then ye gotta time it And if ye can't find the time, then ye better find it Cause if the plod have got you locked lad then you better ride it Don't be snitchin' on your boys cause you'll be getting silenced I'm sittin' in the station, lad I'm flippin' at this bizzie cause he isn't patient I get me brief, no comment f** a written statement Press the buzzer for the woman seeing if they're bailin' Snitching b**hes Adam Lee and Conor Dean, they gra** mans up, then they vanish off the scene Don't be flap cause they act tough they're nothing keen, I'm in the ramma bang a hammer landing on ye bean I stack grands up, when I bag an ogg of cheese I got me hands rough, land of the flogging keys I've been banged I've been slammed just for robbin' peas And now I'm chilling with me man up with a crop of weed So f** religion I don't listen to the prophecy And f** your system I'm not giving up my job you see I'm not living in the sh** so I'll be chopping Bs We do the biz properly, cause we're proper Gs Aged 15, doing street robs and burglin' And when Jukey lets the beat drop he's murderin' Wait kid I'm sure that's a rat lad reverse him in Let me grab the little twat and lad I'll have him curdlin' .50 cally in ye mullet, that'll have ye gurglin' Whippin' out the semi then the bullets gonna be hurtlin' If ye chattin' stacking dough then ye know that I be earnin' it Reefer in the teether whippin annies when we turnin it When it comes to money lad, the lessons I be learning it Hublots and Raymond Weil watches I'm wearing em Chattin that ye stackin dough ye know ye better turn it in I smoke haze while ye f**in rocky bums are burning in Chattin that he's heavy, he's thinkin that I'm scared of him The fact of the matter is, that I've never heard of him You can ring your boss and trust me kid I'll have a word with him And after that you firm of f**in worms can go and burn ye gimp BANG