paroles de chanson Free Bradders - Headie One

1: Headie One]
Free Bradders
That′s bro from kway before snakes and ladders
We was 15 throwing up gang signs,
Looking like we're playing ching chang chana
Bro backing out rammers, finesse a man′s jewels Santana
Then tell big man just back up
Way before J Hus, didn't like ice in this Fanta
Finesse these broad day chingings, knives just shine in the camera
Years later nothing ain't changed, pressure these opps and banter
Had one hand on the spin ting and the other there tryna keep balance

Free Bradders
10 toes do road free smoke, love hammers
Couple g packs, do road, M-way smash it
In the hood fishing these shots on the opp like Bradders
Like how many years I been grinding, free my nigga B it′s just timing
Fake yutes in Tottenham not like
Him, OFB pull up with smoke and diamonds
Long clip, equipped to ride with
No one ain′t into fighting, gang rip it back and just light him
Especially if you don't like him, Skatty I handle my ting

Free Bradders, bro from early
Before he had single plaits
All he knows is drill and trap, got him in the jailhouse kicking back
I′m on the M-way doing up mileage, M sport whip no hybrid
Cut that pack into slices, the opps ain't men they′re mices
Why feds wanna grab my bros, free Bradz till he back on road
And he's free in Tottenham like Danny Rose
No more bag up at 6, or doing up canteen codes
Just fresh home back on the strip, grinding tryna stack this dough

Free Bradders
We was in Niz grabbing shanks up
Tall but now it′s live corn out hammers
I remember that day in I, I was 20 [?
] Make the fuckboy stagger, good in the hood we can never take bad up
Got a jigga batty ting from the
Niz, B got one from the 9 that's badder
Niggas must really gone mad, feds need to free my bro Brad
I know that them boy there happy,
Cah nuff ting gang left them boy there sad
Sawn-off dots, handting and rambs, 10 toes, ped, ding-dong with waps
Remember that day it was far from rainy, my man still got splashed

Free Bradders
What you know 'bout putting young gs, in a cab filled with daggers
Old school days, blood on my mums cooking knife, no hammers
Now I bag up the light in cling, still rise up my rusty ting
I had to switch up how I text, before the jakes come like what′s next
We the ones investing in poles, while you chill with bae and hoes
Free Bradz, free Bradz, free Bradz
My aim′s narrow, I just got a shot in Harrow
I just boot like I did it in jail, one hook Jack Sparrow