Bar Session 1 by Juke (LAB TV) Lyrics
[Intro - Juke]
What's goin' on? It's Juke, Huyton
[Verse 1 - Juke]
And when the stow is up, you know the Jukey's flow erupts, blowin' up, showin' up any rapper, I'm cold as dubz
Chat you're packed, chat you graft, chat you roll with thugs, chattin' beef and chattin' meets, you're never showin' up
You're chattin' heats and chattin' shots, I'll put ya in the box, run up in ya gaff, tie you up and let your mother watch
Don't talk shit on the lemo, like you're bustin' Glocks, I know for a fact, that you rat, when it comes to plod...
If plod are on their way, lad, no comment all the way!
You snitchin', then we ditchin', fuckin' bodies in the grave, Ellis Fisher is a grass and I'ma' let the shotty blast 'em
When I catch this fuckin' punter I'm gonna buck the muppet, fast!
Cause I'm a raw don, "Shut ya mouth!" "Or what?!", pullin' up a bally lad I'm kickin' pya doors off
Runnin' for the strally, I be drawin' for the sawn-off, lickin' at these dickheads 'till the bullets...are all gone!
And if you chat you're a G, you say you sell draws but it's actually me, you say you spray kens lad, I'm blastin' the piece
I done a runner from the plod, but now I'm back on the street!
I rap on the beat, the lyrics on the track now, never back down, jab, uppercut, smackdown
If you ever talk to Jukey-B about beef, lad I roll with the piece, you're nothin' but a daft clown!
John Gotti, I be gunnin' with the shotty, divvy runnin' with ya posse, put the metal in ya body, man is screaming "Sorry!"
"Please don't lick another shot, G!", you think I give a shit I'll fuckin' take ya head off, clean! Why?
Cause I'm droppin' off a bag of bones, fuck a funeral, I bag a body up like Al Capone, out on road
Leavin man's napper with a massive hole, grab a stoli', laugh my fuckin' 'ed off when I'm back at home
If I don't think big I'm in the banks shootin', cause I'm in it for the dough I got the bags movin'
Lad I'm in it for the winnings, I don't chance loosin', and I'm fuckin' off the middleman like Frank Lucas
And if a man ask for graft, know that I'm choosin', if we run upon the gaff you know that I'm bootin'
Doors off the fuckin hinges, packin' Samurai's like ninjas, stabbin' all these maggots, pull the packin' out to win, yeah
What's goin' on? It's Juke, Huyton
[Verse 1 - Juke]
And when the stow is up, you know the Jukey's flow erupts, blowin' up, showin' up any rapper, I'm cold as dubz
Chat you're packed, chat you graft, chat you roll with thugs, chattin' beef and chattin' meets, you're never showin' up
You're chattin' heats and chattin' shots, I'll put ya in the box, run up in ya gaff, tie you up and let your mother watch
Don't talk shit on the lemo, like you're bustin' Glocks, I know for a fact, that you rat, when it comes to plod...
If plod are on their way, lad, no comment all the way!
You snitchin', then we ditchin', fuckin' bodies in the grave, Ellis Fisher is a grass and I'ma' let the shotty blast 'em
When I catch this fuckin' punter I'm gonna buck the muppet, fast!
Cause I'm a raw don, "Shut ya mouth!" "Or what?!", pullin' up a bally lad I'm kickin' pya doors off
Runnin' for the strally, I be drawin' for the sawn-off, lickin' at these dickheads 'till the bullets...are all gone!
And if you chat you're a G, you say you sell draws but it's actually me, you say you spray kens lad, I'm blastin' the piece
I done a runner from the plod, but now I'm back on the street!
I rap on the beat, the lyrics on the track now, never back down, jab, uppercut, smackdown
If you ever talk to Jukey-B about beef, lad I roll with the piece, you're nothin' but a daft clown!
John Gotti, I be gunnin' with the shotty, divvy runnin' with ya posse, put the metal in ya body, man is screaming "Sorry!"
"Please don't lick another shot, G!", you think I give a shit I'll fuckin' take ya head off, clean! Why?
Cause I'm droppin' off a bag of bones, fuck a funeral, I bag a body up like Al Capone, out on road
Leavin man's napper with a massive hole, grab a stoli', laugh my fuckin' 'ed off when I'm back at home
If I don't think big I'm in the banks shootin', cause I'm in it for the dough I got the bags movin'
Lad I'm in it for the winnings, I don't chance loosin', and I'm fuckin' off the middleman like Frank Lucas
And if a man ask for graft, know that I'm choosin', if we run upon the gaff you know that I'm bootin'
Doors off the fuckin hinges, packin' Samurai's like ninjas, stabbin' all these maggots, pull the packin' out to win, yeah