Pirlo - Capo Lee

Laying in bed and I still overthink

Tossing and turning, thinking money

Weighing up verses and plan B

Tryna reverse it and live clean

Have food on the circuit, bro 15

Tunes on deck and I just wanna work

I’ve been doing this from emerging from out the scene

Man from the ends that didn’t have faith

See me on flyers when they get backstage

Everyting calm when I jump onstage

North of the border, I rep them ways

Life gets hard, time’s flying by

From the day that you’re born, been a mountain climb

I still have bars and a badboy flow

Even if I don’t get around in time, I’m calm

I still know man that buss their gun

And finger their girl with the firing arm, yeah

Scared money don’t make no money

So we grind on the road from night till the morn

Ain’t got a choice, man trap when it’s bait

Write two bars, then I go back to my base

Virgo baby, stuck in my ways

With the tightest flow

Man don’t

With your dead little song that you’re dragging around

Duppy the beats, man ain’t got a clue

Till I come through pap-pap-papping off rounds

Then I’m gone like a drive-by

Talking grime, me a go find out

If you’re talking, money, man find out

24/7, don’t know about time out

You’ve got food in the trap?

Man find out

Get the drop, man run in your hideout

Festival season, splash it and hide out

They can’t flex in my face, I’m onsite now

I’m around here, you can’t get a rhyme out

I don’t sleep at night, I’m a night owl

I go back to the trap, put the mic down

I was sat in my car when I wrote this

I came back with blatant hunger

Breaking through then arranging numbers

I might change my number

On the regime that I’m training under

Pattern myself like a Christmas jumper

Man get liff was a banger

Swear down, even made Mystry wonder

Old school like DJ Wonder

I try my best more time but I know

That I don’t make the smartest move

I’m old school like Heartless Crew

I bring vibes when I step in the place

So I’m like Pirlo when I’m passing through

You ain’t clocked?

I’m a darkskin too

45 in the air, that’s the party poop