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c1 (lth) - next up? lyrics
first beat
[intro]
you know how i stayed alive this long? all these years? fear
the spectacle of fearsome acts
somebody steals from me, i cut off his hands
he offends me, i cut out his tongue
he rises against me, i cut off his head, stick it on a pike, raise it high up so all on the streets can see
that’s what preserves the order of things, fear
[verse]
me and s, that’s a two man step
and if you don’t think we’re patterned, we both got gloves
that’s de gea and cech
how many mans been splashed and vexed
they ain’t put hands on skengs, they’re wet
shotgun long or short, it’s still on the back of the pcx
all now it don’t make no sense
them man tried lurk one time, man crashed, and they ain’t ever been back again
only god knows, wagwan for them
ta controlling the dinger, me in the p-ssy, it’s looking all ments
you can’t afford to get cheffed on the mains, rudeboy you’re looking at death
bare man run when the suttin’ gets rised, two l’s like let’s lurk twice
had nuff youts gone on the top, s did him dash on lark or rise
mums life that spin ting hypes
me and gang when we’re out on the ride
undies on to the kid, then the tighest sp-ces c1 hides
i been on countless glides, and the feds dem can’t name one
i’d rather be in the t with grams dicing 1.1s
got sweet ones onto the gang, it’s nuts
showing off breast and bums
do a drill then back to the slums
i can’t wait ’till i lock this one
i put nuff stress on their head, i can’t make marjay bury her son
they know that we out with skengs on peds, dot dot ready to dump
if you speak with your chest get slump
notorious hill get anyone bun, if you know then you know ’bout a tulse hill tug
i ain’t tryna leave man rubbed, splashed and chinged, that’s your insides f-cked
corn in the air, better watch your touch
man can tell me nuttin’ ’bout them boy, them man ain’t got nuttin’ on us
they say c1’s next up, this is for chak so i can’t give up
ride on the other side, gangs too nuts
it’s only the bros man can trust, i still go shop where shh got touched
second beat
[intro]
so when you wake up in the morning, when do you first get out that?
soon as you put on your clothes, it’s like putting your clothes on
how you bend down to tie your shoe, how you go in the bathroom to wash your face and brush your t–th
you leave the house without this, it’s like, it’s like you basically saying sh-t f-ck my life
[verse]
the beef is poppin’
the suns all out so you know we gotta have these paigons dropping
the last time i jumped off a 125, i had that opp boy dodging
this is the start, no way i’m stopping
she don’t need rates to know that she’s popping
bad b-tch topping off gang, “oh i say” like my name’s dot cotton
need me a russian, more like a foreign
left hand curving shots like robben
i beef with the opp block active, n-ggas seein four wheels skrr and panic
if there’s juice on the rambo, savage
every mans goal is to make nuff cabbage
still one eye closed when i slap this, lth too gangish
i do things and stuff with bro, every day we take a hundred risks
i got tings doing snaps and pics, on my mums life i ain’t into that sh-t
f-ck the opps, they’re neeks, they ain’t on this riding ting
the shotty size like one baby, a samurai sword same size as slim
4 door swerving, got 3 man in the back with a bally and a 15 inch
how can you run and leave your bro, that one there ain’t a bredrin ting
washed up youts scream ltk and none of these man ain’t ever done a thing
i just laugh and i bill my spliff
i’m with m tryna score on pr-cks
or i’m with p tryna mango split, headshots only the f-ck is this
you don’t ever take no trips, 3 double 0 yeah i took that risk
i’ve been with caps and breeze on the streets
pull their pants, they dash and skeet
n-ggas are neeks, ain’t seen what i’ve seen
n-ggas are rookies, ain’t been what i’ve been
do they know round ‘ere got a selection of waps
shanks on waist, big tings in bags
if man could’ve got tru’ the door that day, we wait for them to ride back
30 on the mains and not enough gas
but we still got the 4 door packed
them man can’t buy no waps, they’re br-ss
it’s always a casualty thing like sav
[outro]
that’ll go on your hip like you put your vest on
last thing you do is worry ’bout the police
i’d rather do the 3 years in the penitentiary than life in the cemetery
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