RK (UK) – Hoods Hottest

These bruddas talking like they’re flipping bricks
Probably out here ticking zips
Every day I’m risking it, you can’t relate you chicken shits
We was just some little kids, probably stealing pick and mix
The Q packs were gone fast, told bro “I need some bigger bits”
Me and Wez was hitting licks then we started hitting strips
But we was just some little kids, fiends tried it so we’re hitting nits
I’m sick of this, I have a purpose and this isn’t it
I’ve lost count of times I’ve slept a night up at these nitties cribs
I’m tryna be stinky rich, balling like I’m Mitrovic
Fuck the ends, I wanna get out like the hypnotist
Smoking since like fourteen, first time I hit the spliff
Weed don’t even touch me now, think I need to quit this shit
Stressing bout no flipping bitch, I just give ‘em dick and dip
She said “Do you love me?”, I thought “Not even a little bit”
I used to have a shawty, cut connections with that little chick
I wanted a bigger crib, she just wanted bigger tits
Fed up with this image shit, money on the strip is shit
Probably wouldn’t buy it if they couldn’t take a pic of it
I went so broke I would’ve risked it for some silly shit
Then G touched home and said he’s done with all the prison shit
He’s tryna make a milli quick, I said I can relate
And since then we’ve been making money moving all this weight
He put money in my pocket, he put food up on my plate
That’s why he’s my blood brother, he could never be my mate
This is what I’m made for, I ran up in the game like “Give me what I came for”
I’m blowing like a Claymore
Why you think I’m up and down, in and out of Slade for?
Cah I’m throwing out these pitchers like it’s baseball
Fuck I need mates for?
All they do is take take and then they wanna take more
Like we ain’t tryna bust the same doors
Like we ain’t tryna fight the same wars
Like we ain’t started on the same scores
Like why you think I look so fucking aged for?
What I’m making ain’t enough, nah I need to make more
Bread I’m breaking ain’t enough, nah I need to break more
Up and down the same strip like say my feet ain’t sore
Walking round on my ones like this beef ain’t raw
And if he ain’t gonna slap it then what’s he came for?
What you think I went and copped this brand new .38 for?
Like why you think I went and copped this brand new .38 for?
I remember when they told my granddad he had stage four
He told me “Fuck it”, he’d done everything he aimed for
Why you think I’m on this stage for?
As long as I can say when I hit my grave door
I know what I aim for, we just live and maintain
It’s different levels yes but we still play the same game
They see me doing well and now they wanna take aim
Just wanna make a milli quid and fuck off out this fake game
But even then I won’t change
These bruddas say they got me, they don’t even get me
These bruddas say they want me, catch me up in S.G
Give a shit if man respect me, they talk a bag of shit
But when they see me it’s all “Yes RK, wagwan? Respect g”
My tank’s never empty, I beg man don’t tempt me
I’m rolling with this blade, got me feeling like I’m Wesley
This label ting’s all fucked up, all they do is stress me
No tunes for nine months, was tryna drop, they wouldn’t let me
This music turns these man mad
Used to be big chains and big whips, now it’s all chokers and handbags
This rap shit damn sad, got me vexed like a bitch was on her jam rag