paroles de chanson No Hook - P Money , Desperado , Spooks
Back
when
my
bro
had
his
ped
He
was
flipping
them
Zs
Flipping
them
packs
on
the
back
roads
Flipping
them
packs
on
the
mains
These
niggas
wanna
stunt
and
floss
now
Cuh
they
got
roleys
and
chains
Nigga
wan′
look
good
for
the
hood
Nigga,
get
back
in
your
lane
Nigga,
get
back
in
your
lane
Nigga,
get
back
in
your
lane
My
niggas
get
Ps
in
the
light
or
the
rain
Don't
do
it
for
the
fame,
don′t
do
it
for
the
chains
I
just
do
it
for
my
mates
You
do
it
for
the
papes
I
just
do
it
for
the
cake,
I
just
do
it
for
my
mates
I
ain't
tryna
move
bait
I
ain't
tryna
move
bait,
I
ain′t
tryna
move
bait
None
of
you
niggas
can
chat
And
none
of
you
niggas
got
racks
None
of
these
niggas
got
packs
And
none
of
these
niggas
got
cats
None
of
these
niggas
got
MACs
So
none
of
you
scream,
don′t
like
None
of
you
scream,
don't
like
When
you
ain′t
got
this
and
you
ain't
got
that
More
time
talk
facts
You
said
you
got
a
MAC
but
no
one
got
whack
More
time
you′ll
rat
Yeah,
the
flow's
bait
but
I
don′t
even
rap
So
man
tek
time,
I
don't
wanna
hear
that
I
don't
wanna
hear
that
Why
you
gotta
lie
in
your
raps?
Just
make
a
no
about
facts
Don′t,
don′t,
don't
talk
about
gats
Just
talk
about
playing
Xbox
in
your
flat
When
you′re
gripping
that
pad
Holding
down
RT,
dropping
bodies
on
the
map
All,
all
these
niggas
just
chat
All
these
niggas
just
chat
These
niggas
still
trapping
off
Qs
Trap
star
now
cuh
they
got
a
gold
tooth
Re-upping
on
snaps,
go
re-up
on
food
You're
just
a
good
yute
I
ain′t
crazy
but
niggas
gotta
move
Go
back
to
your
bed,
bring
a
bitch
to
your
room
But
more
time
your
bitch
wants
space
So
back
to
your
bed
and
bill
a
fat
zoot
Reminisce
on
your
tune
Then
holla
at
me
when
you're
speaking
the
truth
Ain′t
got
time
for
these
goons
Me
and
my
team,
we're
tryna
make
moves
But
your
bitch
moving
loose
Ucking
on
you
or
ucking
on
me
She's
ucking
on
Spooks
She′s
ucking
on
Spooks,
she′s
ucking
on
Spooks
And
if
you're
ucking
with
Spooks
Tell
dem
my
man′ll
send
out
the
troops
I
said
none
of
these
breddas
ain't
hard
And
none
of
these
breddas
ain′t
real
None
of
them
breddas
bust
straps
And
none
of
their
straps
ain't
steel
I
was
checking
out
their
stats
And
none
of
them
breddas
ain′t
killed
They're
talking
like
they're
a
chef
And
none
of
these
breddas
made
meals
None
of
these
breddas
are
real
None
of
these
breddas
are
bad
Right
now
I′m
in
a
mad
home
And
donny,
I
ain′t
even
mad
What
do
you
mean,
you're
in
a
mad
home?
I
mean
that
price
for
the
yard,
not
a
flat
I′m
talking
mortgage,
fam
Hundreds
of
hundreds
of
racks
Your
clique's
sad
The
flow′s
diarrhoea,
blud,
my
shit's
mad
Cool
with
a
barber
that
trims
on
point
But
when
I
spray
man,
I′m
pulling
my
shit
back
Draw
me
in
the
field,
that's
penalties,
fam
Up
front,
Aguero,
Man
City
bangs
Black
whip,
click
click,
bang
chitty
bang
Bare
smartphones
and
bare
silly
man
Gatecrash
parties,
ripping
that
MAC
Might
phone
Despa,
I
might
phone
Agz
Might
hit
an
uncle,
might
hit
a
dad
Might
hit
chest,
might
hit
abs
Tryna
make
a
drink
off
me?
Are
you
mad?
I
ain't
having
a
bar
cuh
there
ain′t
no
tab
Bro,
I
don′t
wanna
hear
that
I
don't
wanna
hear
that,
I
don′t
wanna
hear
that
I've
got
bad
Bs
And
I′m
strapped
so
stay
in
your
lane
I'll
have
man
jump
out
the
whip
like
the
Mad
Men
You
owe
me
money?
Gonna
feel
my
pain
You
see,
none
of
these
niggas
ain′t
on
shit
None
of
these
niggas
ain't
game
Blacked
out
plane
Shut
shit
down
on
the
main
Shut
shit
down,
start
raining
I
stay
on
the
grind,
fuck
gazing
I
stay
on
the
grind
while
you're
raving
I′m
fucking
up
the
pavement
My
name
rings,
I
run
out
the
pagans
It′s
one
of
them
things
You've
got
a
bag
of
cats
and
none
of
them
rings
3.5,
that′s
the
litre
It's
my
class,
I′m
the
teacher
I
left
with
blood
on
my
sneaker
And
in
my
pocket
the
beater,
shit
can
get
deeper
Shit
can
get
protest
I
leave
man
wasting
with
no
chest,
hope
that
you
know
best
All
of
my
goons
got
racks
All
of
my
goons
got
stacks,
keep
F-ing
up
tracks
Gone
are
the
days
I'm
defo
not
chilling
in
flats
Stop
talking
your
mouth
like
you′re
on
stuff
I'm
feeding
you
to
the
wolves
My
name
ring
bells,
got
up
from
scales
Like
don't
conversate
with
fools
Come
to
the
war
prepared
That′s
how
you
come
with
tools
When
we
come,
it′s
certi
Gs
And
we
don't
follow
no
rules
1 Sounds & Gimmicks
2 Who's In Charge
3 Crushed
4 Shotta
5 No Hook
6 On a Fun One
7 My Lingo
8 Feel My Bass
9 Pepper Riddim
10 Yearrrh
11 Pressurized
12 Bags Under My Eyes
13 There for You
14 Never Left
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