Window Frame Cypher (feat. Patrick Karneigh Junior, Norman Pain, Albert Allen, Smith & Mcmillan)

And a mate went down for a long one, a young man never said names I got big tools, and I got big cars, and I got big chains Gold, one on each finger, hands on the wheel of the Range You don't wanna come round here, get put through the window frame Get put through the window, then I come kick down doors I like my watch but hold on, mate, I still want yours You see these hands, you see this face, you know my name You don't wanna come round here, get put through the window frame I don't wanna hear another word from your mouth, son I came to collect this paper Made so many bets on my iPhone, I used up all of my 4G data Out with the wife in spoons and I just put a fork in a mouthy waiter Knock a man out in an Uber, I'm the new Charlie Slater You don't wanna come around here Got samurai swords and a blacked-out beamer I've got your wife in the kitchen bent down screaming "PKJ" You don't wanna war with this one Patrick might just gouge your eyes And like I said before, I'm with your wife in the kitchen, pounding thighs I go fast and they go slow And another bad B gets poked You know that she wants this pole But I'm on road, wait 'til I get home She brock up the packs, I wrapped it Fling that arse back, I slapped it You know that Smith's on road And if I've got beef then Ball-Head backed it Money (yeah), cash, baby do the math Heavy, stacks, do-do, do-do pow I'm in the back of the beam Cutting a pack with the team Dishing it out for the fiends I keep a mash in the jeans And a man-a-man chef like Gordon Pull out the kweff and I boot his door in And I'm up 'til five in the morning Sunrise cats on the trap line calling Pull out the Pyrex glass, pull out the egg beater and dash I like to whip white with mash Any black girl or white I smash I came to beef one fella He went home in a black bin bag Thought he could dodge these hands Head got spun like a ceiling fan I am the man, one phone call, and the boys come down Grab your neck with these hands Grip real tight, and a man laid down And a mate went down for a long one, a young man never said names I got big tools, and I got big cars, and I got big chains Gold, one on each finger, hands on the wheel of the Range You don't wanna come round here, get put through the window frame Get put through the window then I come kick down doors I like my watch, but hold on, mate, I still want yours You see these hands, you see this face, you know my name You don't wanna come round here, get put through the window frame