Ghost Freestyle

I wear my Assassins kit like Ghost
In this Game, no feeling no remorse
Lock and load when we hit that road
Overdosed when they heard about me
I ain’t that Paki you would wanna’ meet
3 shots in the Magnum is all I need
I belong to the Warriors Creed
Raised in the Khyber
No, we don’t kneel
Live by the code of the Pashtun tribes
We don’t back from a fookin’ fight
Don’t chat to me about
Your Shootings, Stabbings,
Cutting each other’s’ faces
I’ve survived Terrorist Attacks
On’a daily Fuckin’ basis
Marksman at the age of 6
Only headshots and we don’t miss
Just like Dutch, “Can’t spend one day in my shoes!”
We hit so hard
Leave them opps confused
Like a Predator stalking its prey
We ride at night through opp blocks
Come out, come out,
We just want to play
Sound a the Uzi spray
Opps on the knees they pray
No face, no case
No face, no case, I wear my mask
Ya’ll think it’s for Corona
Dodgin’ CCTV’s for years and years
As if, I’ve got a fucking Diploma
I know it keeps me up at night
I be breaking all of them ties
When I catch them Pagans over and over again
Fabricating all of them lies
When you see me with my Broski’s,
Standing next to me
Is my Family
And I trust them with my Life
I’m from that place they say,
Where Nine Eleven’s, Twenty Four Seven
Can never forget, “16th of December!”
They went to the school in a Bus
Came back to the home in a Hearse
Smallest Coffins I’ve ever witnessed
Left that School by hundreds
Forget about your postcode beef
I’ve lived through a War
And it taught me how to survive
Like a Feline with 9 lives
Can’t help the Paranoia ‘cause
I’ve already spent my Five
This life ain’t no PUBG
Someday, no more Revives
My white friends at work be calling me their brother
On the ‘gram, on they facebook
They be posting Black Lives Matter
But secretly supporting that,
Yaxley ‘Cuntface’ Lennon
Mandem be mad and chattin’
‘Cause Man’s never been to Jail
Man’s got a Uni Degree
And still got knowledge a the streets
Envious and mad at me
Notorious like B.I.G
I know why they be hatin’ me
(with) My syllables and similes
I go fuckin’ crazy
A free-kick like Leo Messi
All these blackouts
Missing time-line
When I lose my temper
Man’ i twist these words in booth
Like the Last Air-bender
When I lay my verses down
All these Rappers surrender
‘Cause it gets
Colder than December
Shut Up and listen
Ride with me through my Vision
From KP to London
When Doc talks, People listen
He's back,
Cooking that Crack in the kitchen
Not enough ink or paper
So many songs unwritten
And so many memories missin’, Listen,
I’m gonna be consistent like my daily plan
Breakfast of Champs, Afghan-grade
We be having Hash, no browns
And ridin’ around my town
In my black Bat-mobile
With the black tinted screen
And my AK, in my passenger’s seat
My rivals all deceased
Fuck that shit by JME
That the Music originated,
And will always remain in the streets?
Huh, fuck that
‘Man Don’t Care ‘bout all that!’