Window Frame Cypher - Pete & Bas, Smith, McMillan

And a mate went down for a long one, a young man never said names

I’ve got big tools and I’ve got big cars and I’ve got big chains

Gold, one on each finger, hands on the wheel of the Range

You don’t want to 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 want to come round here, get put through the window frame

I don’t want to 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 want to 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 want to 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 till 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, 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 till 5 in’t 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’ve got big tools and I’ve got big cars and I’ve got big chains

Gold, one on each finger, hands on the wheel of the Range

You don’t want to 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 want to come round here, get put through the window frame