Plenty Bands - Young Smokes

Bad riders, the way I’m shooting stars

We even done it out of moving cars

There’s no strings, I ain’t pulling no guitars (No way)

AMG, smoke the chase like cigars

I’m not the one to play with (Hell nah)

The Q5, inside it’s like a spaceship (Oh shit)

I’ve got workers, I don’t give 'em payslips

My plug love white, I think he racist (Ah)

Got Cali, Biscotti and Zushi

My young G’s shooting like Rooney (Pa, pa)

It ain’t Forex, the way that I trade (Nah)

We line the sales like an I.D.

parade

Damn right I was dead broke

I had no O’s, now my wrist presidential

In this AMG swerving, the tyres burning

There’s no way I can get pulled

I hopped out the Audi, straight into the Benz (To the Benz)

I shot kilos, I don’t know about F

I’m at your girl’s and my WiFi connects (It connects)

She ain’t no keeper like Petr Cech

Living reckless, spend that, an offender

Giving work to the workers, Job Centre

Fifty grand in my bag at A Jewellers

On the run, make a half a M, that’s a render

What I spent this month, like half a key

To pull me, it’s gotta be armed police

She say that she love me and it’s hard to see

Made racks in jail, it weren’t hard for me

Yo these rappers ain’t made what I’ve spent on rent

Put a hole in his sides, have a fifty pence

I ain’t sitting on no fence and my neck’s River Thames

If you ain’t talking money then it don’t make sense

You want a brick?

I’m the one you should call (You should call)

The way I spend, it’s like I play football (Football)

All these racks, I don’t need an advance

She wanna smash, I won’t give her the chance

I was in jail moving cell-to-cell

Now it’s new AP’s, I’m living well

This lifestyle started with an ounce

Free all my dargs up out the jail house

My Rollie shy of fifty bands (Fifty bands)

Go against me, you a silly man (A silly man)

Keys to the Bimma like I’m Beenie Man (Zim-zimma)

My G got plenty grams, plenty bands

My Rollie shy of fifty bands (Fifty bands)

Go against me, you a silly man (A silly man)

Keys to the Bimma like I’m Beenie Man (Zim-zimma)

My G got plenty grams, plenty bands

What I spent this month, like half a key

To pull me, it’s gotta be armed police

She say that she love me and it’s hard to see

Made racks in jail, it weren’t hard for me