Mystro - February - Whateva da Weatha lyrics

[Verse 1: Ramson Badbonez] I've got my winter coat, hoodie hat and gloves on Waiting at the bus stop Thinkin' its not blatant as I bust shots Ruff, what!? Crouching on the stair case Shottin' robbin' bare face, mockeries Nobody comes to their aid Present day! February she's here, so we'sees the leap year Hide away that secret stash and keep clear We fear! Nothing, not a damn thing Pulling out like ham strings Makes you wanna flip out, click clack Bang bang! Pressure got my blood pumping And running and drug juggling Which I am currently gun smuggling Fake scams! Credit cards and cashbacks Gameplan he's name-brand Selling g's and getting keys for free bags Hard food! Deep in from a tall block Freezing my co*k and balls off Seein' three crack fiends, packed in my [?] Weed cakes! Put in on the big scales Bag it up and make sales Get back on your hustle, grizzle Whatever! Trouble making younger lads Guns in the plastic bags And back packs for fun cutting slags Dog flats! Currency or coke racks You might get your throat slashed Watch your back the feds have got your phone tapped Reckless! A bundle of teenagers Under police surveillance We don't give a f** We're smotherin' the pavement Think fast! I was rarely in cla** Can't you see that sh**'s hard So I am on my hustle, grizzle Whatever! [Hook: Gadget] We're born in the b's so I'm never gonna stop The euros, dollars, p's, I'm gonna get a lot From sun-up to sundown round through to whenever No resting whatever the weather We're born in the b's so I'm never gonna stop The euros, dollars, p's, I'm gonna get a lot From sun-up to sundown round through to whenever No resting whatever the weather, yeah [Verse 2: Mystro] In these unfriendly streets Munching on some jelly beans Hungry as a he'll ever be, he's looking for that Go steal! Till it comes he won't chill A crook becoming so ill He's looking at some road k** Like "maybe I should Grab that!" Lost everything he had Stashed, he left that in his backpack And kept it in his nan's flat His bredren must have Nabbed that! He worked like a lab rat The first sign of that cat He swears he's gonna flip out, click clack Bang bang! He's troubled 'n' juggled and in drug smuggling But someone done him in Now he's stuck in the slums, suffering Without rules! The scoundrel, who used to have a house full But now new reduced to lacking mouthfuls He's doubtful He'll get his cash! Back to where his two-faced brethren's at Spending then forgetting that he soon may regret the flash He didn't run That pistol on the victim's gonna sing a song But 'til it's on he'll get back on his hustle, drizzle, whatever [Hook: Gadget x2] [Outro: Ramson Badbonez] Racist feds, f**ed out kids [?] out chicks stunk like sh** [?]