Headie One - Street Heat Freestyle by Headie One Lyrics
Am I the only one that's been on bail
While he's in jail
Now I just step foot into the T
And I can't inhale
I came up for the Re
Now I can't link this girl
It's been an hour
How the fuck can my tracksuit smell?
Me and bro done too much mileage
Again we gotta fill up at shells
And we just went halves on a handting
You don't want that filled up with shells
All the opps know damn well
If I rose with it I'm with it
I done all of these jails on my lonlies
Can't anybody tell me I'm timid
Still I can't mix pleasure with business
I had to get these numbers scripted
Have you ever seen a paper
Back and front just filled up with nuttin but digits?
Get down there with a bruckdown Vauxhall
Filled up with nuttin by hittas
Do it with the gang
Or do it on my jones like bridget
I was tryna get my prints off the handting
You couldn't keep ur prints of belaire like Philip
You was in the VIP section drinking
I was in the bando flipping
Get the drop on the opp
Make Headie one get any inkling
And just like the bando
I'll be on that backroad flipping
My young boys do listen
But they ain't got patience
Finesse this broad day chinging
They couldn't believe like an atheist
I got old friends I gotta do em like strangers
I got them all stressed back home
Like they ain't got papers
Im on the backroad doing up Ching
I should be at home with my ting
Now the MTV they all in my crib
With evidence bags full of scales and the cling
How they take that one two stack that I made off a flip
But it ain't nuttin
Cah I ring ring trap
I do this ting daily like blind
Me and big bro spend time with the sicklight
Look at the flick of the wrist still
Pack Look like the heaviest assist still
You ain't taking these risks still
I seen flashing lights like a disco
Now all of these pigs at my door
I'm about to get hit with the Rico
I'm about to get hit with the Rico
I spent all of them days in Thameside
Grub got bruck like an enzyme
The last time I scored on an opp
I felt like doing that chest knife
Fill this dinger to the brim
And take it their on a test drive
I aim that spins like tlc
I make sure I close my left eye
I'm on the back road doing up jedi
Them niggas sour they red-eye
Nothing comes before my numbers
Not even my NI (ONE)
How many times have I been in cuffs
And everything got denied?
While he's in jail
Now I just step foot into the T
And I can't inhale
I came up for the Re
Now I can't link this girl
It's been an hour
How the fuck can my tracksuit smell?
Me and bro done too much mileage
Again we gotta fill up at shells
And we just went halves on a handting
You don't want that filled up with shells
All the opps know damn well
If I rose with it I'm with it
I done all of these jails on my lonlies
Can't anybody tell me I'm timid
Still I can't mix pleasure with business
I had to get these numbers scripted
Have you ever seen a paper
Back and front just filled up with nuttin but digits?
Get down there with a bruckdown Vauxhall
Filled up with nuttin by hittas
Do it with the gang
Or do it on my jones like bridget
I was tryna get my prints off the handting
You couldn't keep ur prints of belaire like Philip
You was in the VIP section drinking
I was in the bando flipping
Get the drop on the opp
Make Headie one get any inkling
And just like the bando
I'll be on that backroad flipping
My young boys do listen
But they ain't got patience
Finesse this broad day chinging
They couldn't believe like an atheist
I got old friends I gotta do em like strangers
I got them all stressed back home
Like they ain't got papers
Im on the backroad doing up Ching
I should be at home with my ting
Now the MTV they all in my crib
With evidence bags full of scales and the cling
How they take that one two stack that I made off a flip
But it ain't nuttin
Cah I ring ring trap
I do this ting daily like blind
Me and big bro spend time with the sicklight
Look at the flick of the wrist still
Pack Look like the heaviest assist still
You ain't taking these risks still
I seen flashing lights like a disco
Now all of these pigs at my door
I'm about to get hit with the Rico
I'm about to get hit with the Rico
I spent all of them days in Thameside
Grub got bruck like an enzyme
The last time I scored on an opp
I felt like doing that chest knife
Fill this dinger to the brim
And take it their on a test drive
I aim that spins like tlc
I make sure I close my left eye
I'm on the back road doing up jedi
Them niggas sour they red-eye
Nothing comes before my numbers
Not even my NI (ONE)
How many times have I been in cuffs
And everything got denied?