Maniacs lyrics

[Intro: Blade Brown, DJ Big Ryde]
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Okay
Yeah
Aight hold tight Blade, let's do this

[Verse 1: Blade Brown, DJ Big Ryde]
The state of the game is a tragedy
Everybody's licking shots, everybody's bagging B
They say I wrap raw casually
Real talk I really had a n*gga up in casualty
And nah I ain't talking 'bout the series
Feel free to ask me, I'm addressing all your queries
And darg I only roll with a couple bruddas
Most man are clowns they remind me of the Chuckle Brothers
And yeah my family's tight
Just B, Dre and C, I could name a couple others (But what?)
But I ain't baiting up names
It's bad enough I'm on the road baiting up 'caine
After a hard day's work darg
I'm ringing up Keisha, I'm rating that brain
But nah back to the subject
Most of the n*ggas on this rap ting are suspect
You never see them on the strip late
Swear down fam I can't listen to these mixtapes (Swear down)
They say they're all on the grind
I get that peng yeah I call it the shine, why? (Tell 'em why fam)
Because it glistens in the light
This is real talk, don't listen to the hype
Every time I spit it's like I'm christening the mic (This is Ard Bodied)
These n*ggas must be smoked when they're kissing on the pipe (Ayo Giggs, tell 'em how it went down)
[Verse 2: Giggs]
Move so scatty in life (Yeah)
Stuck in the traphouse packaging white (Packaging white)
Look to the left of me, the matic's in sight (Matic's in sight)
Clip's loaded up, proper smack it in right (Hmm)
My strategy's nice (Yeah)
Look for a hottie on a Saturday night (Yeah)
I was looking ravaged that night
Boogs kinda shocking with the Adidas stripe (Ooh)
Got rounds in the strap c*cked (c*cked)
I come round have your town under mad lock
And I ain't come round for a slap job (Job)
I come round, I'll be sounding the mac off
Take all your hats off (Off)
Got the whole rap game in a padlock (Yeah)
And I ain't playing with you fags 'cause (What?)
It could end bloodstains on your laptop (Yeah)
Cocaine I done bagged lots (Lots)
Gotta link a duss head round Bagshot
There's a yellow sign up on the corner
Asking anyone if they saw who stabbed Bob (Hmm)
Don't say that I'm wack 'cause
You've got Hollowman playing in your rag top (Yeah)
Plus I got your princess in my flat dog
Balls in her mouth, call it a sack job
[Verse 3: Dubz]
More hype, why?
'Cause I f*cked your baby momma
Marmite, why?
Love me or hate me brudda
Underrate me I'ma
Still make my butter
Snowflakes in summer
I'm an A-Class shover, not the Mercedes
Couple eights I'll plug up in your girlfriend's buttocks
Or her purse maybe
Pull up in a car at the curb she'll leave
I might bring a couple dargs to your territory
f*ck the metaphors B
Cheap ass n*gga, you'll get peppered for free
As for stepping on feet? Steel-toe caps
So when I step on the street I pay no tax
Feds mentioning me? You don't know man
'Cause the nitties they need me like coke cans
Probation don't see me, don't show fam (Show fam)
'Cause I'm peddling diesel, that dope man
Look, now it's time that I think I get my di*k polished
Hit the club unshaven, Rick Ross ish
Plus the coke's unshaven, big boss ish
And the colt just came in, Giggs's promise
So you better just hide your goods
'Cause I'm better with this 9 iron than Tiger Woods
Let me show you the real meaning of time flying inside the shoobz
Get your watch popped and your shine took by minor crooks
[Outro: DJ Big Ryde]
Aight
Don't forget Hollowman Meetz Blade
That's on the road now yeah
So make sure you cop that
Yeah
Aight, so hear what I'm saying
It's Big Ryde
I'm back on my sh*t