Текст песни Red Eye to Paris - Skepta
Cause
y'all
grew
up
watchin'
Rambo
and
Commando
and
Cobra
and
Schwarzenegger,
coincidently
is
now
the
governor
of
a
state
in
America.
So
where
does
the
social
responsibility
fall
for
Hollywood?
Na'mean
that's
why
me
I
try
tell
us
that
art
is
a
reflection
of
life.
I
wants
the
youth
not
to
shoot
and
leave
a
song
about
it7
How
can
I
only
handle
my
business
from
this
9-5
I
smoke
that
dope,
I
call
that
potent,
smokin'
till
I'm
paralyzed
High
as
hell
I'm
blinded,
Zombies
been
auto
pilot
This
year
my
bro
told
me
get
mine
Oui
oui,
we
in
Paris
Skepta
MC,
architecture
the
textures
of
beats
My
complexion
obsessive
to
infectionswhen
I
call
to
freaks
While
this
mind
is
matured
I
got
my
green
from
my
fans
So
if
you
smokin'
on
Reggie,
I
smack
that
green
from
your
hands
My
revival,
ye
nah
take
me
title
cause
man
are
stifle
No
man,
no
war,
no
rifle
Me
day
are
in
the
ghetto,
sense
it
pon'
me
head
stone
If
I
was
a
star,
word
to
God
I'd
be
Fredro
It's
all
fashion,
I
smokes
good
I
talks
lavish
Led
to
fame,
a
French
name,
expensive
habits
Tappin'
out
to
chicken
wings
from
Bob
Backlund3
Whole
Foods,
I
eats
good,
it's
organic
In
Paris,
got
hotties,
no
molly
just
ganji
Stone
like
a
brick,
meet
you
in
the
lobby
Gettin'
dome
off
the
rip,
gold
colored
tints
Whip
like
I
whip,
lay
my
shit
down
ya
shrimp
Technical
message
spray
and
beheaded
Get
used
to
slayin'
They
useful,
they
used
to
slaves
Zulu
man
use
their
great
The
proofs
of
mis-truth
Hidden
in
America's
roots
Livin'?
I'm
barely,
just
shoot
To
the
stars
and
cave
in
the
roof
Big
timer
for
the
majors
it's
proof
Skepta
with
the
ganja,
salute
Represent
for
my
mama,
stay
true
Gotta
get
it
for
low
and
the
flip
too
Flatbush
in
the
news,
cops
killed
who?
Niggas
of
the
blue
gotta
trust
who
Money
on
my
mind,
what
I've
been
through
All
alone
in
the
scroll
with
a
issue
Sticking
to
the
dry
like
a
tissue
Sacrifice
for
the
world,
gonna
miss
you
One
wish,
few
blunts
and
a
pistol
Frank
White
in
a
drop
top
we
miss
you
Tip
top,
hip-hop
rap's
official
Not
hot,
been
told
not
official
Big
shot,
big
plot
my
[?]
Zombies
blow
wide,
continental
X2
Yo
shawty
on
my
wood
wood
Ay
it
ain't
no
problem
cause
we
smokin'
on
that
good
good
Light
one
for
my
niggas
who
represent
the
hood
hood
You
know
we
smokin'
that
fire,
she
light
the
wood
Dawg
I
just
fuck
her
good
Won't
be
known
until
I'm
on
and
niggas
hand
me
the
throne
Physically
been
many
places
but
I'm
Brooklyn's
own
If
a
nigga
nice
as
me
then
he
must
be
a
clone
Yo
bitch
is
foamin
at
the
mouth,
I
had
to
give
her
a
bone
Niggas
should
be
embarrassed
I
caught
a
Redeye
to
Paris
Eyes
red
from
smokin'
the
hash
Ah
shit
that
classic,
I'm
nasty
pass
me
it
Bitch
and
I
smash
it,
pass
me
a
tab
of
some
acid
Pass
me
the
globe
and
I
trot
that
bitch
Like
you
know
what
the
best
is
You
hardly
bent,
I'm
Harvey
Dent
Put
my
faith
in
the
flip,
you
ain't
a
pimp
Your
reign
ain't
shit,
you
put
your
faith
in
the
bitch
Saint
laurent
crash
denims,
my
shit
came
with
the
rips
My
flow
is
sick,
I
spit
more
than
a
retard's
kiss
I'm
in
your
bitch,
I
raided
my
hips
like
I'm
ravishing
Rick
I'm
rather
sick,
aha
feel
my
vibe,
catchin'
my
drift
I
wore
a
rubber
that
night,
so
that
cannot
be
my
kid
Do
as
I
say
and
get
out,
follow
my
actions
and
live
I
get
love
from
the
north
and
the
west
Love
from
the
south
and
the
east
It's
a
zombie
attack
you
bitches,
we
don't
care
about
the
police
I
know
you
heard
about
the
single,
and
you
know
about
the
album
that
I'm
about
to
release
That's
why
I'm
in
Paris
taking
pics
with
the
girls
outside
on
the
streets
There
will
never
be
another
like
me,
rep
my
gang
'til
I
D.I.E
And
I
don't
wanna
get
buried
in
a
grave
Burn
me
and
throw
my
ashes
in
the
sea
(amen)
Hennessey
and
Coke
in
the
cup
And
Pierre
got
me
the
weed
and
the
Rizlas
I'm
gonna
smoke
my
spliff
'til
it
gets
to
the
roach
and
it
burns
my
fingers
Watch
the
rude
boy
spit
now
Musical
chairs
make
a
man
sit
down
Any
size,
little
rave
or
a
big
crowd
Somebody's
gonna
die
here
like
Chris
Brown
Picture
me
broke
in
the
hood
on
the
run
from
the
police,
up
to
no
good
Driving
with
no
license,
two
packs
in
the
passenger
seat,
looking
like
Suge
Fuck
that,
I've
gotta
get
paid
I
swear,
I'm
tryn'a
be
the
hustler
of
the
year
I've
been
killing
it
for
lots
of
years,
put
money
on
my
head,
that's
stocks
and
shares
I
put
the
work
in,
I
go
too
hard,
business
man
with
no
business
card
Take
a
good
look
right
now,
the
last
time
you
see
a
rude
boy
like
me
spitting
these
bars
X2
Альбом
The Tim Westwood Mix
1 Westwood Freestyle
2 Supposed To Do
3 Simple Life
4 My Crew
5 It Ain't Safe
6 That's Not Me
7 Good Times
8 Frisco
9 Way Too Much
10 Red Eye to Paris
11 Ojuelegba
12 Lukey World
13 Back Them
14 Top Boy
15 Nasty
16 Castles
17 Ace Hood Flow
18 Same Shit Different Day
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