AJ Tracey - Spirit Bomb Lyrics

Ladies and gentlemen

Time to test the spirit bomb

My kicks Louis V
Bet you thought I was gonna say Kang
Jumped on the mic, flow's too deep
Bet you thought I was gonna say nang
Try set pace like I never could beat
Bet you thought I was gonna say ran
Man got stomped and dashed the next man
Man got burst and left with that tan
Man can't ever try chat to a G
AJT from MTP
Light skin yout' from T & T
Raised in the south just like FT
Raised in the south like Grizzy One Fiddy
So I don't ever stray far from a nizzy
If I ain't in a trap house with a Pyrex
Then I'm at a girl's yard sucking on titties
Drop bombs in a pagan's bunker
In beef I was raised with the hunger
Old man tryna talk shit about straps
You can be the first one bunned by a younger
Take breath and soul with that pumper
Give man a donut hole in that jumper
Hide food and teeth at that girl's crib
Blue foot baby mum with that bumper
Her own yard so it's bless up
Two-two yard food then I undress her
Got bare white Air Ones in their boxes
'Cause I always gotta stay fresh like Pressure
'Cause I always gotta stay fresh like Deadly
Drop bare heat in mugs like Tetley
Man get beef and call me bare pepper
Call that dish South African medley

In the trap with the press (trap, trap)
Whip and flex (whip 'em)
Brick phone in my right hand
Pyrex in my left
Chef up the bomb ting (chef, chef, chef)
Spirit Bomb (let's go)
You niggas on a long ting
But I get it gone
In the trap with the press (trap-trap-trap)
Whip and flex (whip 'em)
Brick phone in my right hand
Pyrex in my left
Chef up the bomb ting (chef it, chef it)
Spirit Bomb
You niggas on a long ting (long niggas)
But I get it gone (nigga, let's go)

If you got work and you ain't in a gang
Then your work's gotta go, fam
Yeah I'm marga but the strap works
Better get with the program
I got seventy up on the bench
Skinny nigga feeling like Conan
Plus I got skills in the kitchen
Whip work looking like Bojan
Run a boy down in my 110s
Run a boy down in my nineties
I was bad from a young boy primary
Running youts down in the nineties
Move out the way don't chill
If you see me hop out in my Nikes
Cab door slide (whoosh)
You'll be running off from my YGs
Meet cutes talking 'bout smoke
True I patted up man's wifey
Couldn't give a fuck, she was scratching me up
I could tell that she liked me
See the big tools get drawn fast
Put them on the spot like a high beam
Snap-snap-snap when the cannon goes splash
You ain't posing for IG
Spirit Bomb no two-two
See man run with smoke it's like choo-choo
Thought it was that until you got moved to
Yeah, I'm the boss and yeah I'm the Mewtwo
Bare man screaming "look it's that pagan!"
Hand in the pouch is screaming out "who, who?"
Man ain't gonna take it old school like Blue's Clues
Leave man's face all purple like Fruit Shoot

In the trap with the press (trap, trap)
Whip and flex (whip 'em)
Brick phone in my right hand
Pyrex in my left
Chef up the bomb ting (chef, chef, chef)
Spirit Bomb (let's go)
You niggas on a long ting
But I get it gone
In the trap with the press (trap-trap-trap)
Whip and flex (whip 'em)
Brick phone in my right hand
Pyrex in my left
Chef up the bomb ting (chef it, chef it)
Spirit Bomb
You niggas on a long ting (long niggas)
But I get it gone (nigga, let's go)