[Intro]

You know who it is, Jukey B, I'm back
Big up Clicks, big up LittleRaskalTV
Blue on the camera, BANG...big up Juvey
About to smash it again with the bar session, eh?
Set the bars for yous innit
Listen...yeah

[Verse 1]

You know me chips then, kidda you don't piss with it
Rats caught me slipping but the divvy only missed with it
Straight up survivor kid I'm riding till I'm in a ditch
Licking big .9s, 25-to-life, I'm risking it
I'm packing dough so lad you know I'm going watch shopping
And me spot be getting hotter than the scotch bonnet
When the plod are on the block you know we not stoppin
They try to keep us under obs because the Glocks poppin
BANG, I'm getting gwop, when the odds droppin
Plod are spottin that we shottin but we stop nothin
Try be snitching then we ditching, fucking Loch coffin
I'm on the corner of the square like I'm DOT COTTON
So give a fuck about your little games
Kid you're chatting that you're ready but you're spittin names
Lad I'll grip the shiv and then I stick it in your brain
If you snitching then we fucking ditch you in the River Dane
Since a young age, slipping in clutches
If I've got the shiv kid your skin'll get punctured
Acting like a divvy till you're crippled in crutches
Backing out the smithy till your liver gets ruptured
You're chatting that you're heavy
Your lip'll get busted
Don't chef with me 'chete cos your shit'll get butchered
Spit full clips then your wig'll get pushed in
Kids got chips so his crib will get RUSHED in
And now the plod have put me back on bail
Kid I'm rapping on the track before I'm back in jail
You wanna grass up on your lads you little tattle-tale
I'm pulling rats up out the traps like I'm a Patterdale
And then I'm gripping on the shit like I'm Bull-cross
Kid I'm whipping out the .5 to get you full boxed
HELLO HELLO, got the lemo, the bud locked
The tag? Raymond Weil and now I need a fucking HUBLOT
Got a bally so I buck it right there
Know the Jukey with the cally is a fucking nightmare
See the picture in the paper won't be looking nice there
Snitches got me raging so his drum I might burn
Drum I might burn, start cutting up his face
And now the fucker might learn
Brudda trust me when I'm buckin lad you're duckin right there
If I do a little somethin then the somethin's nice work
HA HAAAAAAAAAAA
Me and Clicks got the sickest .45
Spitting off a clip and then it's hitting pure guys
I'm whipping out the smith and let it rip at your sides
Kids have gone to bits cos we pick up raw .9s
At the age of 15, I was raking in the papes
Breaking into posh kens, breaking into safes
Wearing latex gloves, got no tracey for the jakes
Now I'm bagging up, sick Dam hazy and the flake
YOU KNOW DIS
Jukey B you know I'm all about the road shit
Wanna see the size of the .9 I roll with?
And if I'm spittin lyrics then the kids like OH SHIT
Sick beats every time, so I rhyme, my flows sick
Biggest fucking .45 hittin somethin
Jukey's driving, Clicks is lookin
When we riding kids are ducking
Beefin in the teefer....clips are buckin
If you're getting cheeky then you know me fist will hit ye button
Hard to admit though, when you're lashed in the gutter
At the age of 13, slashed with a cutter
Sick mind kid, classed as a nutter
If I ever see the Lord then I'll blast at the fucker
Religion's pure gas like a cooker
Where's Allah when I need cash for my mother?
Man grass so I've gotta graft to recover
No love for the system, they ask us to suffer