Mug - P Money

Yeah, yo

Indirect and I will direct man to your house

I guess I weren’t lying, cuh man came round to your studio when a man couldn’t

find your house

Fans were like «P, what’s all this about?»

I smacked him up for a diss that wasn’t even out

Had him holding his head like «How'd he find out?»

When I asked what you were saying you couldn’t find your mouth

In fact Joseph when I ran up in your studio you was like «Huh?»

(bow!)

Dazed

You was like «Wait!»

(bow!)

Dickhead, shut your mouth (bow!)

Now you’re putting on a show about how you’re gonna get at me now but at the

time of getting banged in your face your show was I’m a celebrity get me out

Man doubted me and wanna bread me now

No, stay over there (mug)

When I got it cracking you ran (mug)

Never even pulled out the shank (mug)

I just stamped on the bredda and skanked (mug)

I swear down ask him what he done, in fact ask him if he even swang back once

About two against one, this was all before you saw Blacks you mug

Last guy that rivalled me got spun

I ain’t even gonna tell him how the other got done, cause you got done the same

way you punk, you bitches ain’t on shit one bag of nuns

I don’t wanna hear no lyric about one bag of guns

Smacked up bare times and got back no one

And you ain’t never backed no one

With that CV I wouldn’t back to back no one

Oi Dot, you are not holding a gun you got boxed

All you do is phone everyone

You’re worse than my old groupies, man held a beating, went online and then he

told everyone

Young Dot, Dot Rotten, Zeph Ellis, Big Dotti all smacked up and then rolled

into one

Man said he ain’t snitching so what was you doing when you told everybody

You’re trying

Stop with the gassing and stop with the lying

You’ve been moist for years, well now you ain’t drying

Talking the hardest like we don’t remember when Desperado had you in the

basement crying

Thought it was your time, you thought you was dying

Cause you know what one of my guys get like with the iron

Calling for help begging a man to save you from where I’m sitting that’s a lot

of relying

You were like 29, grown men don’t rely

You don’t want this smoke brudda don’t lie

Thought you was a gun man, months have gone by and all you’ve done is huff and

puff and write

Oh my god bro, Jesus Christ

How you getting boxed up in the same place twice?

Thought you would jump in the whip and ride, instead you went home with your

forehead iced

Lusardi asking if you’re alright

Dunno bout you but had a good night

Montana mode, but you ain’t ever pushed white

You’re a jumper, you’ve never been a hood type

Bro this like Marlo from The Wire going up against a man fresh out of Brookside

Thought you was going on dread, cut man and left man with a short,

back and sides