Home Freestyle Lyrics

[Verse]
Home is where the heart is at
I was watching Art Attack when Nanny had a heart attack
Same time, thinking "where my father at?"
Pissed little kid touching wigs like barbers akh
You know it's gully in the Gaza akh
Bro got the skully in the Prada bag
Mill said he's stepping so our step is one harder akh
I could push their head back with one harder akh
Big dreams, started with a quarter akh
In the field, I got busy like a quarterback
Snitching on the gang, I've never thought of that
The only thing I've ever signed was an autograph
You know my life's been a mosh-pit
It's crazy in the dunya and I'm feeling like a hostage
I moved out the ends becah I clocked it
I couldn't find freedom in the same place I lost it
I load it up then I cocked it
Man locked the doors on me akh, but I've got this
I've got drive and I'm on shit
When man locked the doors on me akh, I turned locksmith
It's locked and I cocked it
Married to the streets and that pain came adopted
I see murder like death
It's deep so I sleep with the burner like Steff
Home is where the heart is at
I was watching Art Attack when Nanny had a heart attack
I love the roads but I can't attach
If my darg clamps you down it's like a shark attack
See this hood look, blud it ain't a good look Mama mad stressed again, she's burning out the couscous
I hit the road with my dusdus
We was on them pushbikes thinking we was Suge Knight
Are you a man or a mouse?
I was eight when Mum said "you're the man of the house"
I started hanging around, I started slanging around
Touched the road in Year 10 with something mad in my pouch
Should've spent more time being a boy
Dirty's been broke, he's never been employed
Bought a little pack and I flipped that
That little money bought me back, I was redeployed
Hear the wap banging, won't see the toy
Do it for my hustlers, they need a voice
Do it for my strugglers, they need a choice
Need a pair of lungs, I don't need a Royce
We're them known outlaws
They say we love the roads and our home's outdoors
If you've never rapped, I won't know that block
There's bare guns on my block, it's like a load-out drop
So don't ask why I'm beefing
You stab me in the back and then ask where I'm bleeding
I've got beef in the place where I'm sleeping
Bruddas can't take this air that I'm breathing
I'm no angel, blud I'm no Buddha
Out here doing jugga, should've been in Jummah
All the stress that I put upon my Ummah
I might have run the roads and for that it's Alhamdulillah

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