got to die

[Verse 1]
Man's just chilling in the yard, visioning the luxury whips, the jets
The way they push the white and stack the records, man got no regrets.
Wait.
Doorbell rings, who the hell's at 3:52?
Man jump up quick, grab the tool, check the peephole, what's the move?
Man clock the face, yeah, I've seen him 'round the way before
My G, Sing—we used to push the weight on the 16th floor.
Look closer:
Blood splatter on his creps, man's grip tight on a shiny spinner.
I check the angle, I step back—are you creepin' or speaking, fam?
He says C-Rock just got hit up at the local spot, the attack was pre-planned.
I pull him through the entrance, fam, this news is critical.
Retaliation for this one? Yeah, the response is maximal.
'Cause I'm a criminal, way before the rap talk.
Buss the corn, then we speed off—no one knows the path we walk.
If it's done smooth, silence on the skeng, stash it in the motor.
My alibi? Any ting that can help man clear the quota.
Head spinning, reminiscing 'bout my G, C-Rock.
Somebody's gotta pay, fam, right now, the clock is set to stop.

[Chorus - Drill Anthem]
(If they try) Man's gotta drop, gotta go.
(If they try) Send the corn, let the gunshots blow.
(If they try) Nobody gotta know,
That I put a dip in their face, leave them cold, fam.
(If they try) Man's gotta drop, gotta go.
(If they try) Send the corn, let the gunshots blow.
(If they try) Nobody gotta know,
That I put a dip in their face, leave them cold, fam.

[Verse 2]
He's filling up the mag, explaining the whole situation.
Precisely, so we know exactly who we're facing.
Some yute named Jason, pushing bait in a German whip.
Braggin' 'bout the weight and the bread he stacks—that's a trip.
Rock had the link, so they formed up a small crew, small clique.
'Round the time I was bagged up with you, true indeed.
But hold it there, my G, let me proceed.
Don't load that mag too high, let the bullets room to breathe.
Where was I? Ah, yeah.
One night in town, everything blew up—massive clash.
D-Rock went home, but Jason got stuck and took the cash.
Hit him twice, took the product, now the beef is tight.
Traumatized his partner, then he locked up his wife.
He said, "Yo, Rock, set them up, no question, hear me?
Wet them up, no less than fifty shots, let's go yearly!"
How many holes? Man, I seen mad holes in the wall, fam.
What kind of tools? Hitch links, spinners, and shotties, understand?
But forget that—I know where those man are sleeping at.
Still hustling in that building, and they ain't even strapped.
My man Supreme's downstairs, the whip is idling, engine runnin'.
Find a bag to put the skengs in, then come on if you're coming.

[Chorus - Drill Anthem]
(If they try) Man's gotta drop, gotta go.
(If they try) Send the corn, let the gunshots blow.
(If they try) Nobody gotta know,
That I put a dip in their face, leave them cold, fam.
(If they try) Man's gotta drop, gotta go.
(If they try) Send the corn, let the gunshots blow.
(If they try) Nobody gotta know,
[speak] jagga bootz

UK Drill