mama don't cry

mama don't cry

i know that the streets is a jungle

i've got a machete on me like i'm rambo

i don't wanna die

if they come for me i let the gun blow

'cause mama i was born to make it

for haters

mandem are beefing paigons

so i keep my gun at bay

i love my mama cah mama's never lied to me

grinding in the gutter

made my mama always cry for me

i can't bury mum i'd rather mum bury me

i know some brudda's that would rise it up and write with me

i'd lose an eye for them

clutch and do some time for them

my mama's telling me i'm running out of time again

use your time wisely cah you can't get the time again

i got some paigons

got a fizzy and a.9 for them

i love my brudda's cah my brudda's like some fam to me

even though i'm muslim all my brudda's going ham for me

he's rolling with a burner and he's looking for the murder

with a rusty looking turner so you know he'll let it bang for me

i smell death when that wind blows by

so i'm stepping with a weapon

tell a prick don't try

tell my mama don't cry

until allah says i must then mom i won't die

mama don't cry

i know that the streets is a jungle

i've got a machete on me like i'm rambo

i don't wanna die

if they come for me i let the gun blow

'cause mama i was born to make it

for haters

mandem are beefing paigons

so i keep my gun at bay

i just mind my own business

sipping on a tetley

brudda's wanna tent me and the hood's just full of envy

riding in my corsa

tank was always empty

to you it's just a corsa but to me it was a bentley

i used to get the food from brudda's up in bexley

drive it up to bletchley while i'm sipping on a pepsi

trying to get a mill now and i ain't on to heskey

i'm stacking all my money i ain't spending it on fendi

catch me out in netherlands i'm kicking it with kempi

my brudda saw the vengeance

he'll be slapping out your benzy

but it's nothing new

you know how the slums will go

little brudda's trying to catch a body cause his funds are low

i smell death when that wind blows by

so i'm stepping with a weapon

tell a prick don't try

tell my mama don't cry

until allah says i must then mom i won't die

mama don't cry

i know that the streets is a jungle

i've got a machete on me like i'm rambo

i don't wanna die

if they come for me i let the gun blow

'cause mama i was born to make it

for haters

mandem are beefing paigons

so i keep my gun at bay