Really Do This Lyrics – Workrate
Singer: Workrate
Title: Really Do This
Ayy, Tweeko mixed this, you know, it sounds cold
Elevate, this mix sounds mad
Forget ’bout music, we really do this
Turned off Triggz, left the crime scene gruesome
Who you think taped it? The Hayes is stupid
Who you think taped it? The Lane is stupid
Who you think taped it? The Stone is stupid
Critical shankins, critical bootins
We’re the reason that West is ruthless
Some need defense and they can’t intrude it
Bla-Bla-Blackz tryna fat trigger (Ayy, gimme that), fire on eye (Grrt, bap)
Yes, it slaps, cook a opp boy, rise and bang (Bap, bap)
Or I just back up the big ting, dig it
Twist it, I done that numerous times (Ying that)
I don’t know nuttin’ ’bout demon time (Nope)
f#ck that, I don’t know ’bout demon time (f#ck that)
I pray to Allah then jump in the car
Then grip it in palm, man swing my knife (Ching)
If suttin’ gets got anywhere in that borough
Then the mandem slid and the mandem did
Don’t be in the way when the hand ting spits
‘Cah we got big bells and a hand ting clips (Grrt)
This the last time that I mention Ibbz
Twin ran to the toilet, the fat boy hid (Runner)
I never ordered no filet or fish
In front of the CIDs, I back my ching (Hold this)
I bored his chest up, dukes got wet up
Bro got his face, forehead to chin (Ah)
Or remember that time when we made them twins?
And we gave them drip then they cut off his limb (Ayy, cut that)
Tell me your real life, I can keep quiet
Violent, several ones know we lit (You know)
Me and SB just kept on knifin’
Tryin’ to put my man in a spliff (That’s bro)
Done it with Zino, done it with ChingDat (Yeah)
Done it with Lil A (Yeah), where was the get-back? (Yeah)
Bro got birded, that was a setback (Free him)
Coulda got more, so it’s f#ck all the feds, akh
Us man bored **** to the gulag
Us man bunned **** to the gulag (Baow)
I heard we packed off **** then we do that
Still outside, tryna catch us a next pack (Really out here)
Forget ’bout music, we really do this
Turned off Triggz, left the crime scene gruesome
Who you think taped it? The Hayes is stupid (Are you dumb?)
Who you think taped it? The Lane is stupid (Are you stupid?)
Who you think taped it? The Stone is stupid
Critical shankins, critical bootins
We’re the reason that West is ruthless (Grrt, grrt)
Some need defense and they can’t intrude it
Forget ’bout music, we really do this
Turned off Triggz, left the crime scene gruesome
Who you think taped it? The Hayes is stupid (Ask them)
Who you think taped it? The Lane is stupid (Ask them)
Who you think taped it? The Stone is stupid
Critical shankins, critical bootins
We’re the reason that West is ruthless
Some need defense and they can’t intrude it
So f#ck all the talk, we’re ready for war
I will keep borin’ till I get bored
Pop them doors in the night or mornin’
All of them sportin’, that is the norm
Your batch ain’t done sh#t, please don’t force it
Numerous time, nearly had them mournin’
‘Course, we’re the GBGs, important
Why you think my CV’s enormous? (Of course)
They ain’t never trap bunsun
Slap that burner, tryna leave Mumsy buggin’ (Baow)
Huntin’ oppers, dodgin’ coppers
Shh put him in a spliff, I hugged him (Hug bro)
They ain’t never lurked two burners
Circlin’, burnin’ ‘cah we didn’t curve (Ayy, spin that, spin that)
Nothin’, opps are runners, suck your mothers
This pack got Rose, flavoured Runtz in (Fill that, fill that)
Gossip and works, astonishin’ (Haha)
I done too much, suck your mom, do somethin’
Barely ain’t finished, I bucked me idiot
Ducked him, kept runnin’ them purgers (Where you goin’?)
Slapped off spinners and slid with big tings
Favourite drills with the stainless sunken (Ayy, ying that)
I use numerous knifes on humorous guys
It’s mad not one of them touched it (Come get ’em)
Forget ’bout music, we really do this
Turned off Triggz, left the crime scene gruesome
Who you think taped it? The Hayes is stupid
Who you think taped it? The Lane is stupid
Who you think taped it? The Stone is stupid
Critical shankins, critical bootins
We’re the reason that West is ruthless
Some need defense and they can’t intrude it
Ayy, n#gg#s know, you get me?
Ask the streets, free the f#ckin’ guys
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Lyrics Workrate – Really Do This
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