Big Rad, it's Hollow Man, Dubs, hard Body, hey, Buck
You do this shit, and I know this already
But I hear the streets saying, yeah, Buck, don't do this, Buck, don't do that
I know you probably got a film to go and do, G. (BG production)
See what I'm saying, just do your thing (yeah)
Explain to them how you can be on your way
Fam', yeah, ah, let's go
It's like draw for the straddy, fam', blow a fly off his leg
Cedric's got a big tin that will blow a fly off his head
Judy's at the trap house, down to her opposite
Stealing round straps like the ones that left Arthur dead
Your land suspect, you still making margar bread
Raised on the streets, who gives a fuck what father said
You want a wife here, cousin, I'm just off the head
Got the iceberg card with the camouflaged khaki friend
Trapped to the old buck, the bully always after them
Shanko the straddy, bruv, tell me what you're after then
Mate **** strip like my spare mint dancer friend
Mingling with G's like Big Mook's scoochy cardigan
You got big guns, guarantee we got larger length
Smothered in drop page, you must say I'm looking proud of him
Who let the dogs out like the Ross Clark Baja men
Another me, we flew off, when my sound reached after them
Kaiser Sauce, you never seen a star so cocky
I'm the nicest, so all my **** are hard body
We're the real deal, you **** are carb copies
We got a style, and a swagger, then you can't copy
Nice with raps, and this is like my last hobby
Nice with slaps, if you're looking at me, half dodgy
I'm fully on it, you **** do it half properly
Out early in the trap, Hattie in a large coffee
This is Kaiser Sauce, I got a line for both
You can't see me, I practice moving like a ghost
You say, you're on the ground, but you **** lie the most
You ain't on the move, your life's looking like a pose
I don't like you, I don't even like your flow
Fuck it though, you ain't nothing next to mighty sauce
And it ain't likely, you'll ever get slightly close
They say I'm heavy when I hit them with my lightest dose
My swag's impeccable, boy, plus this mag's got a decimal
Boy, and if I clap then it's exit, wounds, I'm kinda sad that you're vegetables
Now, you **** know exactly what the metal do
No table manners, might put my hand in your peppered stew
In other words, I get the food, accept it
Dude, I'm reckless, renegade, reach for my necklace
It's like electric, boom, I live what I say in my bars, you're a goon
You stare in your yards and make tunes, trying to claim that you're odd
Why, 'cause you drive lands rover, what, I'd take your lad like a white man soldier
I can light man's road, but, nah, I'd rather pipe man's over
Why, 'cause my rat bank's cobra, and when I strike it's night-night over
Yeah, I know my knife game's over, I might slice, man, so what?
You don't know me, you don't know Buck
You don't know gigs, keep your bones shut
I got the Glock up, no holster
I might pop up like an Osa
I might pop up like a toaster
I might fuck up your upholstery
I'm tugging 'cause I'm supposed to be
There ain't nothing you can show to me
I've done it all, my youth
Shot and dealing, robbing a course I shoot
The Porsche type coupe, see what I'm trying to whip it in
Until then, it's the banger I lick
All right (all right) all time I rock
All that Q, yeah, see what I'm saying
It's hard body, it's Big Rad, Hollow Man Tubbs, yeah?
So, let's just keep it dubs for a hot sec, yeah

Writer(s): Nathaniel Thompson.