Unknown T — Louis Bloom

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Текст Unknown T — Louis Bloom

I got 3 double 0 on a deal no speedin’
Phone Louis Bloom for a meeting
Deceivin’, opp boys keep on repeating
You ain’t mashed work, stop cheating
I’m in Ealing, gear mode, me and my sweet ting
Gyal phone me for tha jeetin’
Gun beatin’, wavin’ my hand, no greetin’
We bruk, den back in the evening
My soldier plants goodness like flora
OT smoke I’m swingin’ my zoarer
Tourer, my Uptown fizz Motorola
I bought gyal drip, why she wore Pandora?
Boaster, opps can’t talk
Come buck into me at my billboard poster
Grab the Habad, lemme buss dat closer
Slap it with no composure
There’s like, there’s like five black man in a ding Toyota
Run on the pitch like Zola
Corona, mask on, grip on a toaster
The pagans know ’bout the rotar
Madonna hard fone, whip up the yola
Kosher, fizz up the ends, no cola
Two twos, man buck into yutes with a different persona

Call me tha rockstar plug
Gyal feelin’ the tug love
True say I’m black like Deto
Boot him allegro, bark inna vessels
Me, I need pesos, 9’s and pebb phones
Fly up, Selfridge or Bicester for garms
Might Yo this badden, sweet one wanna get bone, get bone
Gyal see me up on the Metro
Damn, the Rarleys want my medals
Bad man doing big man business, Dangote
Multiply properly
Opps wan dash, pretty gyal wan Shoki
One hand ting on the Glide turn GM to duppy
See the opps uncomfy
Pull up on fuckery, the wap got beat out, you’re lucky
One bruk man finna fry up, Kentucky
Swing off my blade like Chucky

Bro bro dun flew out the car, Mbappé
Bruk pop lift up ya hat like Dappy
Man turn up with heat, gyal tun up with snus and maggie
Libs get shelled in the night time
Bells and my bros in trackies
Bentley drop badeens in the backseat
Moncler on the top, man spent all their garms on taxes
Lam’ truck, top gear tryna cut thru traffic
Your T line and your career’s on my jacket
Uh
If bro bros tryna do man bait, den of course I’ll back it
Don’t ask ’bout the clappin’, you’re too interactive
Slap no chit, gang shoot up erratic
Gyal knows my face bait, she dunno I’m a GM
I style like I’m patterned by Abbott

Wait
Call me tha rockstar plug
Gyal feelin’ the tug love
True say I’m black like Deto
Boot him allegro, bark inna vessels
Me, I need pesos, 9’s and pebb phones
Fly up, Selfridge or Bicester for garms
Might Yo this badden, sweet one wanna get bone, get bone
Gyal see me up on the Metro
Damn, the Rarleys want my medals
Bad man doing big man business, Dangote
Multiply properly
Opps wan dash, pretty gyal wan Shoki
One hand ting on the Glide turn GM to duppy
See the opps uncomfy
Pull up on fuckery, the wap got beat out, you’re lucky
One bruk man finna fry up, Kentucky
Swing off my blade like Chucky

Five black man in a ding Toyota
Run on the pitch like Zola
Mask on, grip on a toaster
The pagans know ’bout the rotar