Lyrics M Huncho – Art Of War

Intro:
This is…
This is…
This is Fumez The Engineer

M Huncho:
Yeah, they talk about scores (yeah)
But these people ain’t scorin’
Now we keep it quiet
So they tell us were borin’
Little do they know
One fuck-up and we kicking their door in
Yeah, it’s the art of war
Bad when I’m on my ones
Tell ’em come with 2 or 3
Fuck dat manna come with 4 yeah
It’s the art of war, yeah
Still with the same dargs from a puppy

RV:
Opp boy still tryna get me
Feds just wanna arrest me
Tryna hit a meal like Heskey
My pokers can’t ever be empty
I’m the Fresh Prince of Tottenham
Guess who niggas are Jeffery?
M Huncho, RV and Headie
Dats Neymar, Suarez and Messi
I’m puttin’ work for my gunners
Now I feel like seeing them again
I’m just tryna get rich
They got me risking my freedom again
I scored points in the field
I can’t wait for the season again
Cos I got new beef
So it’s gonna get season again
That means you get slaughtered
When niggas get peppered
I need P for a mortgage
So I got spots like a leopard
Wrist in a Pyrex bowl
So you know I’m whippin’ with tekkers
I’ll rise dat pole
Fuck 5.0, we did it with leathers

M Huncho:
Yeah, they talk about scores (yeah)
But these people ain’t scorin’
Now we keep it quiet
So they tell us were borin’
Little do they know
One fuck-up and we kicking their door in
Yeah, it’s the art of war
Bad when I’m on my ones
Tell ’em come with 2 or 3
Fuck dat manna come with 4 yeah
It’s the art of war, yeah
Still with the same dargs from a puppy
Never switch off of course
It’s the art of war

Headie One:
I don’t care if bro’s on a wrong
I can never lef’ my friend
.32 or the .44 long
I can never lef’ that skeng
Every other day it’s 90 on the M
Every other day I gotta lef’ the ends
I’ve been out ‘ere tryna do right
How many times did the smoke go left
Still do it for myslef or do it for the gang
Do it for the cause
I got six in the spin-spin ting
There’s no way that the skeng can pause
Seventeen, had a link for the AM
First time I tried it, it stalled
I just had to finnese that ore
Enemies and frendemies
Theres only a few I can trust
I keep my eyes on the ball like penalty
What you know ’bout T house settings
There’s nuttin’ but chicken and chips from Tennese
That put me in Chelsea
This steaks just giving me energy

M Huncho:
Yeah, they talk about scores (yeah)
But these people ain’t scorin’
Now we keep it quiet
So they tell us were borin’
Little do they know
One fuck-up and we kicking their door in
Yeah, it’s the art of war
Bad when I’m on my ones
Tell ’em come with 2 or 3
Fuck dat manna come with 4 yeah
It’s the art of war, yeah
Still with the same dargs from a puppy
Never switch off of course
It’s the art of war