(Ah, ah)
(My brother, my brother)
(Yo, let me talk to them)(Yo, poor days, it was me and Old Wayne)
(′Til I got my hands on a dinner like sorbet)
(Couldn't write)
Yo, poor days, it was me and Old Wayne
′Til I got my hands on a dinner like sorbet
Couldn't write a 16, I turned my bid into a teen
If that grub came from D-Wing then they got it off of me
I put batteries in the back and make niggas slide
She got Michael Kors then she definitely ain't mine
As a young boy, I looked up to the dealers
Still got buj residue up in between us
I never came up flying, all them years I was grinding
Been through more white girls than Love Island
Buss it like A Jeweller, Bobby Swagger I′m the shooter
Niggas be dreaming, I′m a doer
I've still got the Narm, I′m still waiting on the karma
Most of my niggas ain't ever met their fathers
Stood up on that corner, can′t step without my borer
I just wanna make it home to my daughter
Up and down them stairs, it took time, it took years
White in that bowl, free Bez never started out rich
But I always had the minerals
Had a stick way before I had a provisional
Pull up in that Roller courtesy of the yola
You know how much time I lost like we ain't starting over
Get rich or die trying, 50 Cent
Crack in my nitty′s den
Got up and tried to bring all my niggas in
Grub came from North, like Deep Green
Spinning like a CD, with so much dirty, I need a deep clean
Never had a plan, I was praying for a grand
Wrapping dinners like Eminem and Stan
Way before the drought came, I was in the O flooding towns mate
Put on more niggas than Southgate
Couldn't be a pop star, I was in the can like a Foster
Me and Margz made more drinks than Costa
Dirty and yola, came from so far
But it was written for me
Roald Dahl, most of my 20s in the pen
Half the mashes with F
Still I feel like Dappy, no regrets
No regrets, no regrets, no regrets
