2 Chains Lyrics by Headie One is latest English song with music also given by him. 2 Chains song lyrics are written by Headie One.
2 Chains Song Detail
Singer: Headie One
Composer: Headie One
Lyrics by: Headie One
2 Chains Lyrics
M1OnTheBeat
Ayo, TwinTwo, this a bad boy beat
Two chains on me (Two, two)
Smoke on bro, it ain’t on me (Turn)
Turn him to a gunner, he ain’t Lundbjerg, he ain’t Henry
But it’s an unbeaten season, I’m feeling like Wenger in ’03
I know them pop boys feel that they’re injury-prone, now they’re losing teammates
Middle finger to the Trident, my young boy don’t know his release date
Come blook at the club, it’s frying, we ain’t coming out here with no tray
Lord know I feel like The Weeknd
I feel like The Weeknd, I look in thе mirror, it’s blinding lights
Baby said that when I step I’m clashing
I wear too much icе with ice
She wanna step out, Cs are matching
Gang wanna step out, GPs matching
Done the right thing and I twinned them Cs
And I twin them machines
When the opps wanna rain on me, Ashanti
I never dunked a paigon, he was civilian on my landing
And something got drilled on a Sunday
Course I ain’t know what happened
I was chilling in my gaff with gang dem
Was listening to Kirk Franklin (Turn, turn, turn, turn)
Cah I trust in God and the way beam
Harry B find the blocks and carton
Show the opps ’bout the four-door trucks and transits
Just free Bradz, Nige is back on sorting tactics
Summertime, out with the two-two, glad
Hving so much drip, it’s a water fountain
Two chains on me (Two, two)
Smoke on bro, it ain’t on me (Turn)
Turn him to a gunner, he ain’t Lundbjerg, he ain’t Henry
But it’s an unbeaten season, I’m feeling like Wenger in ’03
I know them pop boys feel that they’re injury-prone, now they’re losing teammates
Middle finger to the Trident, my young boy don’t know his release date
Come blook at the club, it’s frying, we ain’t coming out here with no tray
Lord know I feel like The Weeknd
I feel like The Weeknd, that boy got drilled on the weekend
On Main Street, feds still knocking
Can I’m still neck deep in the deep end
Little bro scratched it off
Corona mask, no glazzy, don’t value his freedom
Heard a shopkeeper was shocked
Behind the till like Kel & Kenan
All of this beef, we should be vegan
All the opps, the manna like thieving
Bought that broom, manna want sweeping
Some of these lucky they’re breathing
HMP had a street ni**a reading
Back then I was basic
Now I’m sat at the BRITs, my suit tapered ad my fate tapered (Steady)
I’m meant to be famous
But I still aim-zimma, who’s got the keys to the Bimmer?
Pissed that I had to de.link this Insta model
She was way too inna
Can’t believe it was baguettes for dinner
Uh, now there’s baguettes on m pinky finger
Two chains on me (Two, two)
Smoke on bro, it ain’t on me (Turn)
Turn him to a gunner, he ain’t Lundbjerg, he ain’t Henry
But it’s an unbeaten season, I’m feeling like Wenger in ’03
I know them pop boys feel that they’re injury-prone, now they’re losing teammates
Middle finger to the Trident, my young boy don’t know his release date
Come blook at the club, it’s frying, we ain’t coming out here with no tray
Lord know I feel like The Weeknd
M1OnTheBeat
Ayo, TwinTwo, this a bad boy beat