High Road Lyrics

[Chorus x 4]
I stay holding my guns I own a lot of them
I ain't heard you scream yet
Feds still on the scene I bet

[Verse 1: Chip]
Yo
f*ck whoever thinking they king I got no homage
Who taught you to be versatile and took the stones for it
Who showed North you could make it out young
Without the AC's, robberies and going cunch, listen up
I see the unemployment high everybody scraping
Trap rap popping, population trapping
Basic but you popping I ain't tryna knock your vision
But I miss the days when if you couldn't rap you didn't
You've seen what buj' can do to humans that shit real evil
I never made p' off anything that kills people
Except for the times I touch mic and kill people
I ain't spoke to him in time he thinks we still peoples
Use to be my darg he was in my left titty
Chip left nigga's, nigga's never left Chippy
But I ain't chatty patty all your secrets safe with me
Still touch mic and pop corn stay killy

[Chorus x 4]
I stay holding my guns I own a lot of them
I ain't heard you scream yet
Feds still on the scene I bet

[Verse 2: Skepta]
Listen
The whole city's sleeping
Only the kitties creeping
I'm doing vampire hours celly forever beeping
In a position you never wish you would ever be in
I went to sleep in the morning, I rise up in the evening
And I ain't waiting to die I'm tryna live in heaven
f*ck niggas the fiends taught me the biggest lessons
It's sink or swim I'm in it to win
Tryna dodge bin, whipping up lemonade when they give me lemons
International S
Had to book the top floor sit back and reflect
I could still be up in the streets with a strap and vest
But I'm in the bank doing mathematics cashing them cheques
I told my daughter bubba daddy gone be back in sec Like Yakaa Dee your daddy he's a wizard with words
I put em in a verse, now I got some bags to collect
And all these ladies seeing is the racks on my neck
Can't the see if ain't Idris which nigga is James Bond with it
I got a license to kill, shitting on the critiques
Diamonds are forever my gold finger got stones in it
This model calling she wanna give me a home visit
Mowa Lola shades, Alyx jeans, Alexander McQueen tees
Still the steeze so exquisite
I got nothing to prove these nigga's know I did it
Been a top boy before I ever wrote a lyric

[Chorus x 4]
I stay holding my guns I own a lot of them
I ain't heard you scream yet
Feds still on the scene I bet

[Verse 3: Young Adz]
Yeah
I watched my favourite fiend Donna die
PTSD, last time I saw her she was horrified
What the f*ck you know about when you don't wanna ride
But nigga's hit your nigga so you're out there tryna hollow guys
Everybody got a heart it's what's hollow inside
Talking to her she so sonic with lies
Came with a wap but I pay all my tax
I pray my salat
Grab my tooolie and then hit up them flats, facts
SK, CM, niggas brain ain't intact
That's three goats spitting rap and we spraying some facts
I look at my watch and then I turn on the tap
The jakes tryna catch me slipping so I turn off the maps
My baby mother will tell you that I'm addicted to waps
My older brother will tell you that I was 7 in flats, akh'
I'mma go down the loneliest road
It's hard to spin your life 'round when you come from the road

[Chorus x 4]
I stay holding my guns I own a lot of them
I ain't heard you scream yet
Feds still on the scene I bet

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