Lyrics Headie One – Losses & Winnings

Losses and winnings
Me and bro do 90 on the m-way
And I’m still fresh out the system
Still trap phones, bandos

I just got a source for some TT dots
Told this fiend take it to the head like Krillin
My social phone’s EE
But I got my Lyca phone still ringing
I do road for my GG
My aim’s mad so it’s all safe for civilians
Plus you can’t tell me about dippings
Moretime I lean, finesse that with riddim
Been love with the trap, caught feelings
I stack this money to the ceiling
And that’s till I’m sitting on a million
And that’s till I’m on a yacht just chillin
I got beef on the streets when there’s tings on the market
I can’t give a show of what it cost
The last time I done road

Losses and winnings
Me and bro do 90 on the m-way
And I’m still fresh out the system
Still trap phones, bandos
Still blenders in kitchens
Just got a 9 in the PM
Like the football league
That shit’s going straight into divisions
We’re some real drug dealers
You won’t need a prescription
All of my niggas do drillings
All these feds tryna ask for descriptions
All these feds tryna ask for a witness
From way back, Headie been a OFB realist
And I ain’t gotta ask for opinions

Feds boomed off my door, tryna catch Headie one slippin
Now they’re all up in my phone, tryna do me like Hillary Clinton
I got all my lil niggas from
?
Cah all they wanna do is dippings
That’s why I’m out here tryna score
Like Harry Kane, excellent finish
Bad B come to the niz and she ain’t bringing no knickers
I gotta keep shawty on O
Cah I can’t mix pleasure with business
I can do a whole 28 by eye
Moretime I don’t need digis
And my trap phone just ring ring
Moretime I don’t need minutes
I’m on the opp block movin devilish
I’m a jump out specialist
Put him in the air like Nemesis
And I keep my hands where the levers is
I got a big ting lookin pregnant
Got a big ting lookin like Rikishi
I still put Chris Brown in the press
But anyone fall for Karrueche

Losses and winnings
Me and bro do 90 on the m-way
And I’m still fresh out the system
Still trap phones, bandos
Still blenders in kitchens
Just got a 9 in the PM
Like the football league
That shit’s going straight into divisions
We’re some real drug dealers
You won’t need a prescription
All of my niggas do drillings
All these feds tryna ask for descriptions
All these feds tryna ask for a witness
From way back, Headie been a OFB realist
And I ain’t gotta ask for opinions