Ghetts - Fine Wine текст песни

Текст песни Fine Wine - Ghetts

I just hit the belly

Rudeboy, I′m the certiest

A thank you ain't enough for my services

I was probably an accident, but I know what my purpose is

My skin is immaculate, but I′ve done some dirty tings

Tsss

Serving it

Trap

Strap on the lap like a serviette

Bang

Sammity Sam

Circling

But, but, fam

When them man had the van

I was hurdling

Fast forward, one foot in the industry door

Which way should I go? Can't call it, same time they gave thing 24

I wish you could ask Stormin, but I can't give him a ring anymore

You see when I feel cornered, all I do is think of bеfore

I drive back to the housе I struggled in

(What was that like?)

The one bed with a bathroom, the kitchen in the front room

My front room had a oven in

We was suffering (we was suffering)

Still loading, just buffering

I′m upstairs writing bars and my daughter′s colouring

Embarrassed

Had a bill to pay and my girl had to cover it

My guy said I should come on the move

All he needs me to do is just cover him

But Lamzi got me a job when the Ps weren't coming in

Popular guy

Delivering pharmaceuticals, I asked God for a sign

Nine-to-five

Got me watching the time

Somebody asked for a pic

And I lost me some pride

Started praying again

My van never came

How′s that for a sign?

I couldn't stay in the end

T-T-Then I got the hunger back from Deja FM

Had to make a boy know he can′t play with the pen

Fuck making amends

I was 21, en route to making a M

Where's that guy gone?

What′s that guy on?

Had to remember myself like mum said

Where'd you get that vibe from?

I went back to the essence

It's not only bars, my brudda

I′m a man with a message

It′s much more than slapping and cheffings

What about family settings?

What about actual blessings?

That new-year-new-me talk

What about January lessons?

The mic is my therapist

I'm just having a session

Them man there won′t tell you this

They're capping, I′m shelling

They must've thought I had writer′s block

The way these pricks try and write me off

Rap, grime or not

I'm a pocket finder, I find the spot

And me nah worship them and their idol gods

So man ah just come through with the Bible cocked

I come here for everything these lot owe me (these lot owe me)

Bro just rolls off the tongue, but he's not homie (he′s not homie)

Things ain′t what they seem, please watch closely

James, Jordan, Steven, Kobe

About Gs not GOATly (GOATly)

I manifest things before the secrets show me

Had the codes and leaked them slowly

Had to show these people grown me

Can't talk bad about Ghetts ′round here

That look says, "Don't speak on brodie"

When you got real nigga

Bill Withers, they′ll lean on broski

Let's talk about legacy

I don′t care about nostalgia

My best years are ahead of me (ahead of me)

When I signed to Warner, my brudda

I was already me

That's 15 years hard work, no breaks or therapy

A cappella on DVDs, no beats, no bass or melodies

What the fuck you telling me?

Most my peers in the cemetery

Can't do an album, putting out mixtapes

Can′t do a thousand, whatever they do does terribly (terribly)

Can′t do a show, can't do a tour

Same lyrics from 2004

And these are the bruddas that you rate heavily

′Llow me please

Just crown me please

Furthermore, I love converting the non-believers

So, yeah, go ahead and doubt me, please

All they do is talk about drip

Ooh, don't drown me, please

I′ve had you here for way too long now

Hear the rest of the album please (album please)

Party, yeah