Pak-Man (UK) – 48 Bars Part 2

Letra “Pak-Man (UK) – 48 Bars Part 2” Official Lyrics


Verse

South London’s finest, I was Lambeth raised
Yorkshire born, see me out in St Tropez
All I’m seeing is Medusa heads and grams of yay
Moving like a Porsche, I’m tryna stack a grand a day
All this paper makes you feel some type of way
I might go and cop some acres out the microwave
I’m flying yay, I’m flying straight
I’m shining, diamonds clearer than the brightest day
Powder that I’m flipping got me stacking racks
Hour in the kitchen putting twenty-eights in plastic bags
Real boss shit, I get the trappers out
My swag’s from Italy, my piff from Amsterdam
I’m blowing money fast like I jammed the bank
In the jungle with snakes, rats and orangutans
Real dope boy, I never ran no scams
This is volume two of Grams 2 Grands
The legendary next
I could end a rapper’s career, in cemetery vexed
I’ve been in these streets hustling, I’ma keep pumping
If I make a girl my girl she better be stunning
Diamonds in my watches better be jumping
I can whip a nine of light out of three onions
My work clean but my money ain’t
I’m going hard in the trap, not the fucking paint
I’ll start eating up the track and tear apart the beat
I’m still deep up in the trap, going hard my G
Man are beating off straps in these nasty streets
While I’m sleeping on a rack, that’s Cavalli sheets
I’m tryna get through a pack in half a week
My shottas getting rid of grams while I’m half asleep
I’m in the hood every day, I ain’t hard to see
I’m winning, money spinning like a barber’s seat
Cool down, I spent more than a monkey on my dry cleaning
Jewels out every time it’s sunny, see my ice gleaming
The only thing I ever lacked was consistency
My money’s up, I’m focused now, I’m back, are you listening G?
Get clapped if you diss the team, racks in my fitted jeans
Real trap stars in my presence, adds to this British scene
U.K. rap’s mine, I’ll bring it back to life
Like M.J. said, don’t matter if you’re black or white
I’m in the hood where all these youts itching just to slap a ting
Food flipping had my roof missing like Madeleine
Moving round this dirty world we live in
Gucci’d down courtesy of all the girl I’m flipping
Got my own strategy, in my own category
You wanna talk but your money short, you can’t chat to me
Hardest in the country, done with the talk bruv
I’ve got supporters from London to Yorkshire

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