J Hus – Come Look Lyrics

Come look ‘pon me, can you see me fully?
William Hill, ten man outside the bookie
Come gamble your life, I dare you, pussy
Burner in the bush if I keep it cushty
Stratford originals, that’s Vivi and Bully
Where’s my cash-grabbers and Gaza Woody?
Dutty hood rat gyal just lookin’ for nookie
But I don’t even look her, just copped a new splash

Shit, I’m lookin’ for cookies, and cop another cooker
Balls of my jugga, made [?] and [?]
True say it’s Friday, me all the oppers fried
I mean, all my niggas come alive
Fries, bean, broad day, Summer time
The rider team, Ax Man, Kavy and Skai
I can’t even lie, me, I love the other side
But let me talk paper, let me not glamorize

Nah, fuck the paper, let me tell you ’bout the hammer size
Let me take you through the hood, let me summarize
Do you know how to lie? Look in your mumma’s eyes?
Would you notice somethin’ missin’ from a kitchen drawer
Mummy don’t know what I’m on a mission for
Put two in his chest and give him some more
Give ’em galore, had to kick in the door
Playin’ sports every day when you’re livin to score

Now it’s hard, and his lungs and liver is sore
Dutty writer, livin’ on his last score
Make them niggas suffer in this new borough
My nigga in the can writin’ time concurrent
Weatherman had to go there and change the current
Defense is offense, go and touch his noggin
They be talkin’ greasy, but I promise they’re nothin’
Cut the first man, have the rest of them cuttin’
I’m not sellin’ drugs, but what I got in my pores
Big shotgun, I told you today I’m shottin’

It’s really shockin’, electric shockin’
When you finish all your bells, you gotta gun buck him
Take all his goods, know to lock off the shubs
‘Member it was five man had to hold up the hood
We had to hold it up, hurry, load it up
Put my chinger in his belly, now my bore is stuck
That’s disgustin’, what you discussin’
Hangin’ on the other side, there’s repercussions
Left his face red up, now you think it’s crushin’
Left his face red, now you think he’s blushin’

Gyally used to diss us, called us tracksuit boys
Hand ting or the shotty, I can bang two toys
Northside or Southside, go and make your choice
Really and truly it’s my set that’s makin’ noise
The one that’s got the machine, you won’t hear his voice
That’s the one you’ll avoid
We all went to the party, he got destroyed
No invitation, maddest niggas, baddest niggas of our generation
They don’t know gangster, make a demonstration
Light him up, blaze him up, that’s the cremation
Freemason, go and touch three of them man, start celebratin’
That’s the elevation

Ah, shit, we run this shit, not them
On the block 24/7, three-six-five
It’s us never them, always outside, never inside
Us man run that shit, them man can never catch up
We all got this block on the lock, we run this shit
Stratford shit, bug guns, big money-
Ask your bitch about us, ask them niggas about us, they know
Yeah, baby, hahaha, fuck you niggas
Don’t Say Militancy