(Ah, ah)

(My brother, my brother)

(Yo, let me talk to them)(Yo, poor days, it was me and Old Wayne)

(′Til I got my hands on a dinner like sorbet)

(Couldn't write)

Yo, poor days, it was me and Old Wayne

′Til I got my hands on a dinner like sorbet

Couldn't write a 16, I turned my bid into a teen

If that grub came from D-Wing then they got it off of me

I put batteries in the back and make niggas slide

She got Michael Kors then she definitely ain't mine

As a young boy, I looked up to the dealers

Still got buj residue up in between us

I never came up flying, all them years I was grinding

Been through more white girls than Love Island

Buss it like A Jeweller, Bobby Swagger I′m the shooter

Niggas be dreaming, I′m a doer

I've still got the Narm, I′m still waiting on the karma

Most of my niggas ain't ever met their fathers

Stood up on that corner, can′t step without my borer

I just wanna make it home to my daughter

Up and down them stairs, it took time, it took years

White in that bowl, free Bez never started out rich

But I always had the minerals

Had a stick way before I had a provisional

Pull up in that Roller courtesy of the yola

You know how much time I lost like we ain't starting over

Get rich or die trying, 50 Cent

Crack in my nitty′s den

Got up and tried to bring all my niggas in

Grub came from North, like Deep Green

Spinning like a CD, with so much dirty, I need a deep clean

Never had a plan, I was praying for a grand

Wrapping dinners like Eminem and Stan

Way before the drought came, I was in the O flooding towns mate

Put on more niggas than Southgate

Couldn't be a pop star, I was in the can like a Foster

Me and Margz made more drinks than Costa

Dirty and yola, came from so far

But it was written for me

Roald Dahl, most of my 20s in the pen

Half the mashes with F

Still I feel like Dappy, no regrets

No regrets, no regrets, no regrets