LD - No Face lyrics

[Intro: Reekz MB] Reekz, LD No face no case But n***as see us Blocka, blocka [Verse 1: Reekz MB] Lame boy said he on job Manaman say they wanna catch me 'Cause I made the estate run Whole block looked like a track team Mana still trap, but I ain't a trap God I don't need no trap queen Push white, smash B Still got beef on the pavements Man makes hollow tips find him Tell you 'bout nights on the go, all day everyday grinding Free BP out the jail, slapped that corn at the sirens That's my brother, a rider, and he gets oh so violent No way, no trace, no case, no face cah I just don't have one Don't try talk about gwap When I know you ain't even got a bag one This that Dimzy flow, no difference yo put a hole in that one In that ding dong putting in work, and it's a ghostly black one Shotgun with the action, shotgun there for the action Manaman talk that jazz, don't be there when it's spazzing Young G said he on mazza, young G said he wanna shank him Young G there with a shank ting, shank ting looks like Aladdin's Mana turn thriller, Jackson, man hit 'em up like Pac did Patterned, flattened, malice, man leave the crime scene vanish Selling food, I am, man have got corn in iron Man have got food, Iams, man has got corn in iron Man has got corn, fry him Work out with the work out, n***as know I put the work out Lurk 'round with the squirt out, bet manaman turn down [Bridge: LD + Reekz MB] We've got live corn for an opp boy, got live corn for the sirens Armed and dangerous, wicked and bad and violent Nobody's sliding Step round there with the lifers, bet everyone be silent Like tell me where the talking now You young G's gone so quiet [Verse 2: LD] I raise my mash on the streets And I've kicked mans head in with Reekz I don't know about peace I'm a real chef, I pepper my beef I made one of them p**yholes run And the rest all followed like sheep I put in so much work on these opps I don't know how they're mentioning me I don't know how they're mentioning gang 44's in a 4 door, that was us that was letting it bang You filthy imposters, like I don't know you wanna be man Had rusty corn in the 4's that day, that sh** didn't jam You heard a few click-clicks then it banged I know everyone heard, of big man tryna disperse Looking all dumb with his name on his shirt They talk 'bout me on the street Now look how much n***as been hurt I've got am, I've got scales, I move work But f** the trap talk it's long I know M, I know Conz We drillers, we jog Might see us all on your block, tryna put a face on a top It feels so right when I do a n***a wrong I was in Tulse Hill vibsing, dropped bro corn for the 44 long You stupid Justin Biebers Stress you out then you garn sing songs I walk on road with weight I ain't touching no gym 'cause that sh** be long A thousand grams of am Man I bruck it all down and I get it all gone 9's, 4's, 2's, anyhow man'll get that gone