Lyrics Next Up, S3-E17, Pt. 1 - BM X MINI

Sava
Don't get knapped, gunbucked like Jojo
Auto ting is a bruckdown Polo
Don't give a fuck if I catch this stolo'
Pissed-off dawg, get it done for the low-low
Got love for my bro, no homo
Step on the gas, can't stop for no popo
Leave holes in the tee, no logo
Put your face in the news, no promo
She ratin' the tunes, she ratin' the diss
Frontline squad, are you takin' the piss?
Come TP, get put in this spliff
Aim up high, tryna keep it stiff
Back road skrring, tires drift
Glock-19, they pray I miss
Plenty shells, unlimited clips
And if it weren't me it must be Ish

BM
Jumped off road, couldn't hack this beef
I swear Td turned into a priest
O'Mizz ain't worth no sweets
Best not lack, don't die in these streets
The only drill Jojo done's on beats
Get out the booth, go ride for your Gs
Get out the booth, go ride for your Gs
Go, go ride for yourself
Ever since then you raised no hell
Then you got knapped, gunbucked as well
Fatal damage ain't good for your health
Invest this wealth, I buy her Chanel
Jeet it, beat it, then delete it
She ain't got curls, man leave it
Swing her to bro, I don't need it

Mini
Where you-where you from little man? Don't tremble
Aim that high one eye on his temple
They don't wanna see Mini go mental
Pop that smoke, I ain't talkin' no menthol
Opp block tour, still crashed his rental
Scary sight, more teeth than a dental
Don't think that the beef got settled
We glide round there, young G's got potential
Lean out the ride, no rollercoaster
How many mans been burned? No toaster
I'm a real Turnpike Lane poster, so called
Dem man there are some jokers, bogus
Dem man there they don't know us
Aim up high for the dotty
Kick back on my shoulders
War is war
There's no way that this beef is over

Sava
Four doors buss
Them man duss
Lean and bop with this ting like Hus
We don't do bails, only gotta get pus'
What I do for the money
You'll think I'm nuts
When us man ride leave holes, no cuts
Rambo knife, on my waist it's tucked
Rambo knife, on my waist it's tucked

BM
Petrol bath, tryna wash these sinners
Bro got things on things
A blacked out four-door ting
Samurai sword where the blade goes in
Civilians saw him get yinged
Don't ask me ask him
All he wanted was a trim
Ended up going for a swim
Glock-19 with extended clips and foreign whips

Mini
Better have your shank, I pack the .44's
I ain't fencing cats
No cap we don't lie on tracks
So check the scoreboard, this is basic maths
They hate when we're statin' facts
We're slidin' on them all day, it's mad
Can't chat, hit back, I reload them waps
No counter-attacks 'cah they don't get back