Aitch - FTA Freestyle Lyrics

Never lost a fight but lost my head a couple times
I should've let 'em fuck me up to knock some sense into my mind
All the women that I've fucked with no rubber on the bus
If they're ever up the duffs, some are definitely mine
Wait, I'm just kiddin', I just rate it, I'm just spittin'
In your girls mouth, got the puss hissin', I love kittens
I was in town with my fun stick on a fuck mission
Then I woke up in my mum's crib with my cum drippin'
I'm paranoid, so get prepared to grab me
Looked in the mirror then I punched the cunt for starin' at me
I don't bust, I just leave with my nut
'Cause I scream when I fuck
And now the grippers they're all scared to trap me
Today I woke up, I ain't mentally there
Like, I might go and shave the chest off my hair
I know some thoughts that we got ain't meant to be shared
But I'm tired of bein' quiet and pretendin' I care so

Most rappers are cunts 'bout as bad as their mums
Talkin', burnin' a pack, boy, I'm packin' your lunch
Call me daddy, my son, play the match and you won
Give you a pat on the back, little slap on the bum
All these gyal on the net, put your pants on a sec
Sat in a car park, ass out, hands on the deck
Tryna hang from one rich man to the next
Well, if you don't have bread, bitch, have some respect

Man are pissed about the Brits speech
They know shit's peak, bitch, please, listen when the king speak
Brothers bummy like some shit cheeks
Sendin' bitch tweets, actin' like some pussy that I didn't beat
Imagine we could just say what we thought
I'll say it anyway, fuck it, play it in court
Since I broke the fuckin' bank, I ain't breakin' the law
But if the police take my drugs, then I'm breakin' his jaw
You got trees in the crop, let me see what you got
Leave your cheddar lookin' like Swiss cheese when it's robbed
Fuck your bro, fuck your sis, fuck your team, fuck your squad
And if I catch a man streamin' the opps
I hope your drop your phone on your head when you're alone and in bed
I hope you die then wake up with a hole in your chest
Then head back to that hole where you rose from the dead
Then I'll bury you alive, while you're holdin' your breath, bitch

Most rappers are cunts 'bout as bad as their mums
Talkin', burnin' a pack, boy, I'm packin' your lunch
Call me daddy, my son, play the match and you won
Give you a pat on the back, little slap on the bum
All these gyal on the net, put your pants on a sec
Sat in a car park, ass out, hands on the deck
Tryna hang from one rich man to the next
Well, if you don't have bread, bitch, have some respect

If you don't have bread, bitch, have some respect