[Verse 1: Hitman Tiga]
It's me
All the girl dem girl Hitman T
Could've been a drum and a ba** to MC
But I'm never gonna no waste an MC
Might get one in the face to MC
Hitman T, the gooner MC
Click click boom, the boom, the MC
Mop, stick, broom the room, the MC
Bare man dead in tomb, the MC
Man can't war the, war the MC
Still got a ting in the car, the MC
If a man pattern my bar, the MC
Couldn't have patterned a harder MC
Hitman T, the farda MC
I touch mic and farda MC
Spit sixteen and bar the MC
Beat my ting and corner MC
Man are yardman, no Ghana MC
Stamp out man like Ghana MC
Fan of real boa**y, boa**y MC
When I frontline, I call the MC
Kweff Gang army, barmy MC
Man beat kweff and corny MC
Hitman T, the warry MC
f** you and your sorry MC
[Verse 2: Grim Sickers]
I'll leave man slumped with his headtop burst
Rolled on man, he should've slumped me first
Came in the game screaming out "100 Bags"
Came in the game screaming out "Black Bin Bag"
Came in the game wearing all-black
Call out Grim, what you reckon?
f** that, Lord knows I'll shav him, ayy
Made million, prep him
So [?] in heaven
[?] armageddon
Corn like Grim, must've been nuts
Lay a man down face down in the mud
Lay a man down face down in the dirt
He can't check me first
What I've done can't get re-did
I'll start moving 666, blud
Stains on my wrist, blud, stains on my kicks
Kick him once, kick him again
Kick him one more time, make sure that the job's done
Sending for Sickers, that's natural disaster
Sent over head like fracture
Sent to the sky like Kimbo
Sent to the sky like Thatcher
Oh
[Verse 3: Hitman Tiga]
It's Hitman T, not Fetty
One eye closed like Fetty
Wap, wap, wap, no Fetty
Ring, ring, trap like Fekky
Man spray crud and tekky
Man bruck shot like Teddy
Man trap bud and pecky
Trap, trap, trap, no brekky
In the safehouse, no settee
Man have got plugs, no 'leccy
Man try test my patterns
Bless water then splash 'em
Don't take cheques, man cash 'em
Lines get built and flattened
Don't cat next man's patterns
Can't tek tings and jack 'em
Splash, splash, splash, no chatting
Kweff, kweff, kweff, no rapping
Black bin bag him
Man ah move grim like Sickers
Man are real nasty savage
Go-go gadget
Hop out the Polo, pull out the pogo
Make a whole crew disappear like magic
You lot are sh** so it ain't that tragic
Wap, wap, wap, that's a John Doe cabbage
Any MC that nobody misses
Headshot, mek a man swim with the fishes
Man tried spin what I spun so I span them
Everyting dead, got calm for your Mrs
[Verse 4: Grim Sickers]
Kick him on the floor, man, till he can't move
Can't be Grim that you're talking to
Throwing man off from a bird's-eye view
Lick off his head like kweff kwaff kwoo
Grab man up, tie man to the rail
Turn the whole ting into Vybz Kartel
Lick man with the bottom of the Martell
And a few bob like a quick car sale, oh
I'm back on the roster
I'll start going Cantona in Costa
Lick off your head like Guinness and Foster
Spin an MC like DJ Roska
Turn a ting into Shane McMahon
I'll start raining down on your clart
You will get a pierce in your liver and heart
You will get a push like a car jump start
Yeah, I show no remorse
When blood starts dripping like hot pepper sauce
Dump in a bush, no space in the morgue
Leave an MC cold, flat on the floor
You can get duck tape, you can get Sello
You can get Amir Khan and Canelo
I'll run up on man like "hello"
Kick man until he's black and yellow