Longthorne Freestyle Lyrics

Longthorne Freestyle - Pete & Bas

...

(NineOne)

White hot stepper, dripping in black leather

Heat stay tucked, never mind cold weather

Bang whenever, your salt get peppered

Sight get turned black and white like checkers

Blacks and whites in the batch and it's two tone suits on the boys

Black belts like judo

Get slapped down flat, no Uno

Feds out guessing who done it, just like Cluedo

Shotgun pressed on the chest for the kickback

Chat shit, get boxed up like a Tic Tac (Tic tac, tic tac)

I fill a fella up with a Big Mac

Lick shots, belly get split like six pack (Six pack, six pack)

I'm in the fast lane, chicks in the back on the bubble with the Chardonnay (Chardonnay)

I made it through the dark days

Phantom, looking at the roof you can stargaze

Bright lights pinging off the watch 'cause it's diamond

Tick tock, clock him with impeccable timing

Hop in the whip at the first sight of sirens

Back to the pub, vod' sod' with the lime in

Fill another cup, yeah lemme sink that

Home run, knock him out the park when I swing bats

Split him in the middle like a Kit Kat

Spliff rolled, drink poured

Lord, can I kick back?

Kick back doesn't work well with the work ethic

I've been through the dirt and I learnt lessons

Went from a dinger with the dents in

Now I got vents in the bonnet and it's pearlescent

Skirt in the dark like a Wiccan

Ripe for the picking

Fried like a chicken

He could have been alive but he's kicking the bucket

Down to the bone finger licking

Break dinner plates on the face of a chump

Then I'm breaking his bread and I'm taking a chunk

I ain't never leave a trace 'cause I did him up freehand

Gloves on, they ain't getting prints off of these hands

Meat and veg on a platter

The wads got thicker then the belly got fatter

When the feds come knocking at the door for the same old

I'ma just knock him out flat, no chatter

Double chuffing a blunt

Chugging the Bombay

John Wayne gate when I'm stepping on the runway

Six shot cut down Winnie for the gun play

Pray for my sins in the church on a Sunday

Spill a man's beans, I'm a drunk chef

Close cut shaving his dome like a monks head

Bloodshed taste for the flesh, like I'm undead

Sleep best when I'm locked up in a bunk bed

Hop, skip and a jump, pass the pump

Ch-ch-ch-ch bow

Let his body slump in the pub garden

Sit and finish my Guinness, top of the morning

The first flight home, then I'm gone and I'm laughing

Smiling and creasing, he's folded and leaking

I've tried to control him, I ought to delete him

Alive in the morning and dead by the evening

I'm taking him home 'cause the pigs need feeding

Glide when I walk, make money when I talk

No time for the pork, outlined in the chalk

White lines on a board, if you need it you call me

Three for an hundred, same old story

Four fifty, chopped by the pound

Slapped in the wraps and that's fifteen grand

Fifteen large for the longthorne shotgun I shot from, that's an expensive round

(Nine One)