[Intro: Leon Edwards & Boldy James]
I know, I know
It doesn't, man, I'm from the trenches
I'm built like this
They all doubted me, said I couldn't do it
They all said I couldn't do it
Look at me now
[?]
Pound for pound, headshot, dead
Yeah
(La música de Harry Fraud)
[Verse 1: Boldy James]
Holy Christ and Jesus, Latter Day Saints, I caught a half a brickie
Climbin' up the ladder of success, I brought my latter with me
Double cup of purple so it's 'Rex in that lamb chop
Modern-day version of my grandpops with a flask of whiskey
Sprinkle that hashish on backs of white Runtz and black truffle
Eight Super Bowl rings on my hands look like some brass knuckles
Thirty-popper on your third eye, fuck with my first lady
Stirred the pot, stirrin' stir fry, you know I'm stir-crazy
First eighty K, they triеd to persuade me not to murk Daviе
Got him out the way around the time I dropped my first Mercedes
Kitchen cabinet full of eight-ounce bottles like a Gerber Baby
Sittin' on a chirp of dog, shit look like a bird with rabies
Checkin' in on that red-eye flight, might have to check a bag
Checkin' out my room, trunk full of dope, follow that checkered cab
Nike checks on my Off-Whites, courtesy of Virgil
We ran the place so many times that by now, we don't need no rehearsal
I know, I know
It doesn't, man, I'm from the trenches
I'm built like this
They all doubted me, said I couldn't do it
They all said I couldn't do it
Look at me now
[?]
Pound for pound, headshot, dead
Yeah
(La música de Harry Fraud)
[Verse 1: Boldy James]
Holy Christ and Jesus, Latter Day Saints, I caught a half a brickie
Climbin' up the ladder of success, I brought my latter with me
Double cup of purple so it's 'Rex in that lamb chop
Modern-day version of my grandpops with a flask of whiskey
Sprinkle that hashish on backs of white Runtz and black truffle
Eight Super Bowl rings on my hands look like some brass knuckles
Thirty-popper on your third eye, fuck with my first lady
Stirred the pot, stirrin' stir fry, you know I'm stir-crazy
First eighty K, they triеd to persuade me not to murk Daviе
Got him out the way around the time I dropped my first Mercedes
Kitchen cabinet full of eight-ounce bottles like a Gerber Baby
Sittin' on a chirp of dog, shit look like a bird with rabies
Checkin' in on that red-eye flight, might have to check a bag
Checkin' out my room, trunk full of dope, follow that checkered cab
Nike checks on my Off-Whites, courtesy of Virgil
We ran the place so many times that by now, we don't need no rehearsal
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