Ounto Nation - Art Of War lyrics

[Verse 1: Abra Cadabra] No problem They don't really wanna do road 17, man will do show Caught 'em slippin' out bruised [?] Man that n***a left with more than a bruised nose They are not f**in' with me, nah They cannot f** with the T They only know about TX - the actor Idris, me I done shot you in T (Murder!) n***a come through with a one pop They don't wanna see pop shots Fiddi got the loud and it's top notch The p**y got popped and he knocked off Big tum-tum that will turn man back Run man down cause nobody don't lack Glock come, sh**, I ain't runnin' out back I keep it rich get burned for the pack Rich get burned for the pack Man I got the something, don't lack Kush got the something in the back Kush in a four door, skrr, n***as bang n***as really think we just rap Young black n***as with a strap Others really know it's a wrap My n***as don't do it no gas Whip out the ting on ya blaadclart Slap out the ting on ya ra**clart [Hook: Abra Cadabra] n***as don't catch corn f**in' juvies, dickheads, fools Pow pow pow, skrr skrr skrr That's what you hear when my n***as slide through in the Ford Big rambizzy pon mi side, it's a mad ting Any yutes chat, finna send that f** boy to the Lord You stabbin' civilians and claimin' these bodies My n***a, you know that these bodies ain't yours They think that they know about burners Just screamin' out numbers Got nights every tuesday Don't know how to shoot, man these n***as are frauds [Verse 2: Legz & Kush] I think I need to start gettin' drills [?] (Ounto) Cause Abz are on fire with no problems If I ever see these pussies Knife start movin' giggidy (giggidy) No Family Guy, but you know say my brothers with me Everytime I go the block remember that these guys are sh** Even if they had these tings empty clips How the f** that ting gon' spit? Like, who these yutes gon' hit? I can't really do this [?] ting [?] to [?] street is man's acres, what? PO's the strip (Park Lane) On the block hot late with the bros 17 Tottenham with my woes n***as don't try step in my zone Cah disrespect we don't take no All my n***as get dough Ring-ring trap from my phone Blood get burned on the roads Man get jeffed on the low Curbs get scared of his own Do roads with my bros And my Ountos move show to show Then we hit the show and [?] On the backroads [?] get jerked for the pack And I feel no way, no I'm in love with cash flow And I've been makin' stacks Long time since my cash low I'm in love with the packs, bro Man, I hit the up the trap Got P's for my mash, yo [Hook: Abra Cadabra] n***as don't catch corn f**in' juvies, dickheads, fools Pow pow pow, skrr skrr skrr That's what you hear when my n***as slide through in the Ford Big rambizzy pon mi side, it's a mad ting Any yutes chat, finna send that f** boy to the Lord You stabbin' civilians and claimin' these bodies My n***a, you know that these bodies ain't yours They think that they know about burners Just screamin' out numbers Got nights every tuesday Don't know how to shoot, man these n***as are frauds [Verse 3: Kash] Yute trynna send man heaven Crash got hit with a 6, Daz got hit with a 7 Boys trynna lock down the section Them YGs, they're savage, they're really trynna turn opps lemon Ain't trynna aim at legs, youths tryna off man's melon Yute trynna hit man kweng Said they clashed corn at the bruddas RIP to the nizz [?] I remember that day when that yute got wet, I'll never forget These n***as be stabbin' civilians At least they ain't stabbin' my friends Are they really gon' mad? n***a most have really gon' mad Chattin' that [?] Had to worry bout they ducked down Kash Hittin' that strip then he done give a f** 'bout your gang Yea, and I'm trynna move bands Dream about your ting with a neat face Gotta tell the gyal, "get naked" Got a bad beef in the woods, sssh sssh My wood work faces Little n***a got whacked in his face And he hopped on Peri and ain't even trynna ride Can't sleep when I'm ridin' with my skrrr 'round the woods And then skrrr 'round at night Shot got beat like hella tings Got hella nits on my nine Ra** had me locked in the door, now I'm back on the roads on my grind [Hook: Abra Cadabra] n***as don't catch corn f**in' juvies, dickheads, fools Pow pow pow, skrr skrr skrr That's what you hear when my n***as slide through in the Ford Big rambizzy pon mi side, it's a mad ting Any yutes chat, finna send that f** boy to the Lord You stabbin' civilians and claimin' these bodies My n***a, you know that these bodies ain't yours They think that they know about burners Just screamin' out numbers Got nights every tuesday Don't know how to shoot, man these n***as are frauds