"Levels Freestyle" lyrics

(Blanq Beatz production)

All my strugglers out on the graft
Keep it lit, keep going in hard
If you're shottin' or you're croppin' or you're running in yards
Stay on point and make sure that you last
All my young grafters, keep doin' what you do
I remember I was just like you
I used to sell drugs or weed just so I could buy food
I had to save for a new pair of shoes
All the trappers out breaking down whole ones
Ram raiders out in their Shoguns
Ones that put trackers on the cars if they grow plants
Or the ones that send a text to make it go fast
Or the ones that don't wait for 'em to go to bed
Broad daylight grafters on mopeds
Sledgehammer through the window of Rolex
And then cut through the traffic while they smoke feds

Me, I been there, done it all
Bought drugs, shot 'em all
Grow yards, robbed 'em all
Police cars, lost 'em all
Intimidate witnesses when armed police were at their bedside
While they were still in hospital
Still on that ram-you-with-a-jeep shit
Four litre petrol V6
Ballied up, gloves on, man bag, machinin'
Can't talk about half the wars we been in
Cah that shit'll get us remanded
But I wonder, can somebody ask 'em
Do they remember that time my man drove up on their side
With that sawn-off shotgun and blasted?

I said my brothers don't dance
We just make them guns blast, then
Threw the Glock away
Now lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back
Member of an organized crime gang
We don't wait for beef to buy straps
Drivin' through, hold up, pull over, there's my man
Gang shit, give him more than a right hand
'Cause one-on-one straighteners ain't on the table
So only beef us if you're able
If I don't catch you, then one of my mates will
If the blade don't drop you, then the twelve gauge will

So keep running your mouths, kid
We put lorries through houses
Live with Dublin, Marbella and Scousers
Tell these fake gangsters pull up their trousers
White boy calm there, I'm different with it
North Face man bag, got a Smith& in it
RS4, been on missions in it
I went to school with my boy, I went prison with him

So don't try me, I'm not in the mood
I still kick down doors in my Italian shoes
Nah, cuzzy, that won't be a good move
We put more animals in hoods than Canada Goose
So what you saying, my boy, what you telling me?
Pups tryna bark, they ain't got the pedigree
We go Peaky Blinders on them enemies
Ram 'em off the road in a Cherokee
I'ma show you we the men round 'ere
We keep it real, we don't pretend round 'ere
We're all family, not friends round 'ere
We stand together till the end round 'ere

'Member we was in beef
Till we had no energy
Imagine if we had no enemies
Nah, that's probably boring
But if we put our all in beef, there'd be no one to war with

So who shot ya?
Who pulled up in that car? Who got ya?
Who wound down that window? Who dropped ya?
Think twice next time you walk your dog, bruv
My ambitions as a rider
I heard that 12 gauge nearly took your life, cuz
And that 410 lookin' all pirate
God forbid we ever end up being lifers

They ain't hard like us, put in graft like us
They ain't ever had to take a petrol bath like us
Ain't smart like us, ain't got heart like us
That's why they can't laugh like us
99 problems, but a bitch ain't one
Till the police brought sniffer dogs to raid my drum
Stressed, watchin' it sniff near where I buried the gun
But it was vacuum packed, told the fed suck his mum

They ain't gang like me, got straps like me
They ain't got TPs and land packs like me
Spent years in the trap and sold crack like me
Can't make a call and have 300 man like me
And these drug trollies Spanish, my skin fade's Kurdish
These hand things are Russian and my teeth are Turkish
My driver's Polish, I just pray they don't search him
And I get it in Marbella for just over 30s

Broke days when I was bankrupt
Had me running in, screaming out "hands up!"
And I know most these boys can't stand us
But the .38 hammer make a man remember manners

Shout everybody that laughed at me
All the police and CPS that threw a charge at me
The magistrates and the judges that remanded me
And all the probation officers that made it hard for me
All the girls that played me, all the friends that snaked me
All the ones that lied to my face and betrayed me
Every runner that I gave work and never repaid me
Thank you, you're all the ones that made me

Now I've got the whole country feeling me
Now I've got my old exes missing me
Now I've got a gang like the military
That's why they don't want me in the industry
'Cause they know I come with travellers
Turn the MOBOs to a scene out of Snatch, cuz
Come with Cockneys and Irish gangsters
Got the industry feeling all anxious

And my hoodie looking Bape, my G
Got sweets if you wanna get a taste, my G
Cock it back and make it shake, my G
I do that and dodge HMP
May the Lord have mercy on 'em, 'cause we won't
Find 'em and light 'em up like a weed grow
Keep a thing tucked with us wherever we go
We got the weed caf in South if you ever need cro

These fakes claim to be winners
Probably still make their girl pay for their dinners
Claim to be real, but quick to turn to a witness
They all got gangster mouths but 999 fingers
I ain't the same as these fools
They don't know the game or the rules
They think you got to be rich to be cool
You got money, you think the guys you're with are with you?
They act gang, but their boy's in the grave
And still ain't got revenge for his name
So you're a baller? Why you claim legal aid?
I call my pack line Ariana, every day's a grande