Immersed in the world of grime, this track serves as a testament to the artists' journey from hardship to success. Dave and AJ Tracey use their lyrical prowess to paint a vivid picture of their past struggles with poverty and violence, while simultaneously celebrating their current prosperity achieved through music. The title, "Thiago Silva," is a nod to the Brazilian footballer, symbolizing their skillful maneuvering and defense against adversities. Their lyrics are filled with references to street culture and personal experiences, providing an unfiltered view into London's urban landscape. Despite their newfound success, they remain vigilant, ready to confront any challenges that come their way.
Thiago Silva
Lyrics
Santan from the V-V x AJ
Mad mystic with the pen like J.K
True say, I ain't really a drinker
But I got love for brandy like Ray J
Champagne popper, .44 chopper
In the black Nike bomber, heartbeat stopper
Half-heart MC dropper
.45 wapper, leave you in the states like Kaká
AJ from the l-l x Santan
Man's got style on the riddim like Gangnam
Two young bruddas tryna eat off of music
But we used to eat off of pebs and the sand bags
Now we get money, music money
Money that could put your girlfriend in a handbag
White tee, Balenciagas, man bag
Left-winger with a long stick like a granddad
AJ Tizzy from T-H-E lizzy
And I'm all out for the Lizzy
I don't wanna look like you, you're broke
And I've been telling broke bruddas "move" like Grizzy
Still brandy but the hand ting fizzy
Probs be in bin if a man weren't busy
I'm a mic king, I'm a king on the mic
And I'll spin bruddas 'til the whole scene gets dizzy
Walk in the rave, smile on my face
Drink in my cup, hand in my jeans
Man talk tough, man look up, down, left, right
Straight to a bang in the teeth
Man still talk tough, man saw man in the flesh
Now man's tryna talk to my G's
Nah, none of that, none, .45 drum
Run you right out of your street
Walk in the dance, chicks wanna glance
Hand on my hip, shank for the dip
If I shout "oi", them man there best skip
Better tie up your laces tight and don't trip
Trip, get splashed
Couldn't care less about my man's gang
We're not fam, we're not friends or bredrins
You'll get tanned and binned, cock, then blam
Santan Dave from the Vale and Tracey
Duck man down on the road, I'm pacey
Two lighties on the phone, so facety
One named Jordan and one named Stacey
S with the S from the S, ask Showkey
Dust man down with a mask like Tobi
Tell a boy cotch, my man's telling me lots
But we are not G's so don't watch my face
Ladbroke Grove is where I re- who?
Man get burst up in the G- who?
Came back with a fresh one, it's new
Don't come around for a two of the blue
I don't give a fuck if you're old or new
I'll just yawn like "blackball who?"
Put a couple dead MC's in the grave
Trust me, darg, you can go there too
Trust me, darg, you can go there free
I don't ever watch F-A-C-E
AJT from MTP
NikeLab tracksuit, Nike ID
Man got overly fucked in the beef
Pretty sure I landed a bang to his teeth
Man will get banged in the face by me
Not my bredrin, banged in the face by me
And me
Man talk tough, we'll see
Hit him with the left-right, left-right, left-right-right
One jab, then I duck, then weave
Come like Trevor from GTA
If I bang man's face, man bop, then lean
Kun Aguero, man dropped the shoulder feint once
Quick kick then I drop man's G
First time I link her, Nando's, sweet
£9.95, I swipe, then eat
I one-two rap, she don't give hat
Thiago Silva, man block, then skeet
Had man screaming "look, there's my man"
Hand in my pouch like "where? It's not me"
Hand in my pouch like "where? It's not us"
Turned to my G like "where? It's not we"
So if you get boom with the .45 long
It's a critical hit, no chance to repeat
And if you see Arge in the cut with the dip
You're pissed so quick your team should retreat
But if you see Juss in the cut with his right hand tucked
You're fucked, your team should leave, G
If you see Rapz in the back with his hand in the bag
It's mad, we came to see Ps
Walk in the rave, smile on my face
Drink in my cup, hand in my jeans
Man talk tough, man look up, down, left, right
Straight to a bang in the teeth
Man still talk tough, man saw man in the flesh
Now man's tryna talk to my G's
Nah, none of that, none, .45 drum
Run you right out of your street
Walk in the dance, chicks wanna glance
Hand on my hip, shank for the dip
If I shout "oi", them man there best skip
Better tie up your laces tight and don't trip
Trip, get splashed
Couldn't care less about my man's gang
We're not fam, we're not friends or bredrins
You'll get tanned and binned, cock, then blam
(169)
Writer(s): Che Wolton Grant, David Santan, Paul Tyrell, Prince Matthias Owusu Agyekum
Copyright(s): Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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