text: Free Bradders Lyrics
  Free Bradders
  Thats bro from kway before snakes and ladders
  We was 15 throwing up gang signs, looking like were playing ching chang chana
  Bro backing out rammers, finesse a mans jewels Santana
  Then tell big man just back up
  Way before J Hus, didnt like ice in this Fanta
  Finesse these broad day chingings, knives just shine in the camera
  Years later nothing aint changed, pressure these opps and banter
  Had one hand on the spin ting and the other there tryna keep balance
  Free Bradders
  10 toes do road free smoke, love hammers
  Couple g packs, do road, M-way smash it
  In the hood fishing these shots on the opp like Bradders
  Like how many years I been grinding, free my nigga B its just timing
  Fake yutes in Tottenham not like him, OFB pull up with smoke and diamonds
  Long clip, equipped to ride with
  No one aint into fighting, gang rip it back and just light him
  Especially if you dont like him, Skatty I handle my ting
  Free Bradders, bro from early
  Before he had single plaits
  All he knows is drill and trap, got him in the jailhouse kicking back
  Im on the M-way doing up mileage, M sport whip no hybrid
  Cut that pack into slices, the opps aint men theyre mices
  Why feds wanna grab my bros, free Bradz till he back on road
  And hes free in Tottenham like Danny Rose
  No more bag up at 6, or doing up canteen codes
  Just fresh home back on the strip, grinding tryna stack this dough
  Free Bradders
  We was in Niz grabbing shanks up tall but now its live corn out hammers
  I remember that day in I, 20 inch big made the fuckboy stagger, good in the hood we can never take bad up
  Got a jigga batty ting from the Niz, B got one from the 9 thats badder
  Niggas must really gone mad, feds need to free my bro Brad
  I know that them boy there happy, cah nuff ting gang left them boy there sad
  Sawn-off dots, handting and rambs, 10 toes, ped, ding-dong with waps
  Remember that day it was far from rainy, my man still got splashed
  Free Bradders
  What you know bout putting young gs, in a cab filled with daggers
  Old school days, blood on my mums cooking knife, no hammers
  Now I bag up the light in cling, still rise up my rusty ting
  I had to switch up how I text, before the jakes come like whats next
  We the ones investing in poles, while you chill with bae and hoes
  Free Bradz, free Bradz, free Bradz
  My aims narrow, I just got a shot in Harrow
  I just boot like I did it in jail, one hook Jack SparrowEmbed