Answer to this : https://suno.com/song/b7934a13-2362-469b-9878-eebe19831300 Oi, wagwan fam, it’s Chinchilla Killah. Ringin’ up my brudda S.R.K from N.S.S. Heard some posh bredda tryna step to our ends. Say nuttin’, fam, I’m movin’ in , gonna dead this phony pony, trust me. Clap Clap Clap [Verse 1] Dat eediat wasteman fam, dem jokeman pagan bout' get dipped by dem shankman, ching ching ching wit de ting likea ringa-ting-ting cah ,you know cah. Cah man move sly, catch a brudda on sight, Wasteman chat crud but can't back no fight. Dem Old Guap Flex P's, man born with stacks, Daddy fund your drip, bruv, how you talk 'bout packs? Roadman grind for the P's, bands up in the trap, Bare racks on the table, fam, no cap. Bands, bands, bands, man count that dough, You flash mummy’s cash, we invest and grow. Real G’s flip weight, man double that stack, You a wasteman brudda, nah, you can’t chat. Man move stealthy, catch you in the zone, You ain’t got the heart, bruv, you’re all talk, no show... [Hook] Man move mad, bare bands in my hand, Roadman grind, no help from a dad. Man get dipped if they talk too bad, Wasteman flex, that's why they get clapped. [Verse 2] You sip that Tetley, I’m neckin’ the yak, bruv, Bun all the wafflin', you ain’t built for the trap, cuz. You yap like a yute, man’s out here on crud, Catch you lackin' on road, leave you slumped in the mud. Corgis? Nah, blud, that’s soft in the head, Grip on the blade, man’ll paint the town red. Old money flex? Fam, you’re born with a spoon, I was up in the bando, gettin’ paid off the food. Keep snickerin’ and bickerin’, bruv, it's long, Shank pierce your chest, leave you gassed off the song. Talkin’ 'bout packs, but your line's all ghost, Man chop big bits, make the re-up gross. You ain’t no G, fam, you’re bait like a fed, Roll through your manor, leave your block all dread. Flexin' with your cash, that’s mummy’s stack, innit? I count P’s daily, fam, you’re just timid. [Hook] Poor doggo, not in account but mind & soul fam. [Verse 3] Man’s talkin’ posh? Nah, fam, you ain’t on my level, You ain’t built for the grind, just a soft lil' devil. Corgi crew? Fam, you’re barkin’ like pups, I'm out here movin' packs while you sip on your Happy Meal cups. Gold bowls? Bruv, you live in a fairytale, Mummy’s cash flashin', but your hustle’s frail. Talkin’ 'bout pedigree, but man’s bred on the streets, You were bred in a mansion, and your talk is just weak. You sip on tea, I’m out here with the lean, You flexin’ gold collars, man’s got street dreams. All that posh flex, man, you ain't built for this, You ain't on the block, bruv, you ain't on the list. You keep snickerin', bickerin', till the ting gets stuck, You ain’t ready for the smoke, fam, you outta luck. Keep tryin' to test, man’s sharp like a blade, You ain't built for the streets, bruv, you’ll just get played. Chinchilla Killah Real Roadman Out