"Too Much Years" lyrics
Too much years in jail they say I've gone mad
08, I was running wild with my don strap
That's why they call me Potter, 'cah they know where my wands at
44 long I'll have it kicking like Ong-Bak
Jakes wan harass me, so I take back streets
Pagans wan catch me, so I keep it ballsed off
Catch me I make you Bullet Boy like Ashley
Now I'm tryin to mash p, push white smash b
Tryna cop the drop top, two smoking barrels and a lock stock
Line ringing non-stop, firing
Grind like I grind and this grind gets tiring
Mummy said 'you made your bed, son you gotta lie in it'
Got me flying O.T., A12 full speed
Big spliff peng cheese, beamer Bentley benz ps
Weed up in the tent p's, for my mummy struggle so I had to pay the rent gs
Bad my brother KV, bad my brother g star
Life ain't a game, if it was- I would restart
Instead I'm in this fiend's yard, gan hard like scarface for his green card
Crushing big buds in my palm tryna de-stress
Stuck up in this street mess, chilling in the deep end
Surrounded by some fake friends
When I'm just tryna make ends meet like the underground
Jezzys wanna run me down, telling me they love me now
Lick it and put suttin down, chewies and my button down
Smelling like a weed house, been cutting trees down
Still throw up gang sign, never put my B down
Communities fiend out, never let me be child
They was having sleepovers- I used to sleep out
I'm a real street boy, dope man d-boy
All about a reload, hood miss lebo [?]
Line on early like t-fo, Shit I mean t4
Line bang- c4, box money- g4
I ain't tryna be poor, If I had a wish I'd wish I could see more
Abide by the street law, up and down in and out dargie till my feet sore
Dizzle told me take time, analyse the road side
Diz I gotta get it fam you know what these roads like
I could tell these youths what sosh like
I ain't playing ping pong, dargie I'm a grown man
Still miss terror shit my nigga was the cro man
RIP Wallace, RIP fulla, Jesus allah budda
I'm just praying that they let real Gs into heaven
Earl grinds eleven, streets took me round eleven
08, I was running wild with my don strap
That's why they call me Potter, 'cah they know where my wands at
44 long I'll have it kicking like Ong-Bak
Jakes wan harass me, so I take back streets
Pagans wan catch me, so I keep it ballsed off
Catch me I make you Bullet Boy like Ashley
Now I'm tryin to mash p, push white smash b
Tryna cop the drop top, two smoking barrels and a lock stock
Line ringing non-stop, firing
Grind like I grind and this grind gets tiring
Mummy said 'you made your bed, son you gotta lie in it'
Got me flying O.T., A12 full speed
Big spliff peng cheese, beamer Bentley benz ps
Weed up in the tent p's, for my mummy struggle so I had to pay the rent gs
Bad my brother KV, bad my brother g star
Life ain't a game, if it was- I would restart
Instead I'm in this fiend's yard, gan hard like scarface for his green card
Crushing big buds in my palm tryna de-stress
Stuck up in this street mess, chilling in the deep end
Surrounded by some fake friends
When I'm just tryna make ends meet like the underground
Jezzys wanna run me down, telling me they love me now
Lick it and put suttin down, chewies and my button down
Smelling like a weed house, been cutting trees down
Still throw up gang sign, never put my B down
Communities fiend out, never let me be child
They was having sleepovers- I used to sleep out
I'm a real street boy, dope man d-boy
All about a reload, hood miss lebo [?]
Line on early like t-fo, Shit I mean t4
Line bang- c4, box money- g4
I ain't tryna be poor, If I had a wish I'd wish I could see more
Abide by the street law, up and down in and out dargie till my feet sore
Dizzle told me take time, analyse the road side
Diz I gotta get it fam you know what these roads like
I could tell these youths what sosh like
I ain't playing ping pong, dargie I'm a grown man
Still miss terror shit my nigga was the cro man
RIP Wallace, RIP fulla, Jesus allah budda
I'm just praying that they let real Gs into heaven
Earl grinds eleven, streets took me round eleven
