Popular British songwriter and rapper, Russ Millions releases the lyrics for the remix of the song, “Body” ft. Tion Wayne
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Russ Millions ft. Tion Wayne – Body Lyrics
Intro: Mr WOT, Tion Wayne & Russ Millions
Crud
Brap (Mm-mm), yo
Muad
Gotcha
E-E-English girl named Fiona
Big batty girl named Abiola (Mm-mm)
Body-ody shaped like Cola (Bah)
Back up, back up, bring it to the owner
Chorus: Tion Wayne & Russ Millions
Man, I’m still up on the roads, could’ve left (Bah, bah)
Still chattin’ to my bros on the tech’ (Mm-mm)
Fuck that, man, I don’t give a F (Boom, boom)
What, you wanna get smoked? Cigarette (Bah, bah, bah)
English, English girl named Fiona
African girl, Adeola
Body-ody shaped like Cola
Back up, back up, ayy, come closer
Verse one: Russ Millions
(Vi-Vi-) Vida loca (Bullet), high as a kite, never sober (Shotta)
Python, hit him with a Cobra
Free up my bro Casanova (Free him up)
Badman persona, badman alone can control her (‘Trol her)
Sorry, sorry, your sis got bent over
Push in my ‘ood, take anaconda
Verse two: ArrDee
Ayy, have you seen the state of her body? (Mad)
If I beat it, I ain’t wearin’ a johnny (Hah)
Adeola wanna roll with a geezer (With a geez)
Is it me or the lifestyle, sweetheart?
Actually, I don’t give a shit (Nah)
I’m a rapper now, might as well live in it (Live in it)
She smoke up in my hotel, billin’ it (Billin’ it)
You can do what you like darlin’, ArrDee don’t give a F
Still get brain while I smoke cigarettes
White boy wasted, coke get her wet
But my big brownin’ love roll with the Zs
I’m an English boy, but I’m so bloody lit
Yo, Tizzy, my killy, I’m litty, I’m burst
And her body come silly (Ayy, ayy)
Pull up to the AP ’cause we’re gonna get busy (Ayy, ayy, ayy)
The king of my city for really
Chorus: Tion Wayne & Russ Millions
Man, I’m still up on the roads, could’ve left (Mm-mm)
Still chattin’ to my bros on the tech’ (Bah, bah)
Fuck that, man, I don’t give a F (Brrr)
What, you wanna get smoked? Cigarette
English, English girl named Fiona
African girl, Adeola
Body-ody shaped like Cola
Back up, back up, ayy, come closer
Verse three: E1
Don’t come too close
Should I take Keisha or should I take Becky?
Russ, Tion Wayne both said “I don’t know”
I swear Big A should be sponsored by Nike
‘Cah he’s got so much tech when he’s tryna score goals
Ordnance Road, bro back that pole
Mm-mm, if you know then you know (You know)
E1, I’m bringin’ it back
Drop a gun lean ‘cah no one’s been slapped
I’m in the backseat with a brownin’ yat’
With the biggest of backs and the shoulder tap (Leng)
They give us the biggest of chats
But live in the flesh, didn’t see no hands (No hands)
“Anyting green get bun” is a cap
‘Cah no one in 3×3’s been blammed (It’s for fashion)
Verse four: Bugzy Malone
Look, you don’t wanna get left in a mess (Ah-ha, boom)
Gun shot from the right and the left (Boom)
Fifty G’s won’t pay for your life
Get blazed like Cali with no cigarette (Yeah, yeah)
E-English girl named Fiona (Huh?)
Straight Hennessy with no Cola (Huh?)
Know man since Bergkamp and Zola
Hold onto the super soaker (Ai)
Anything to be God, like may the clean hearted walk free
It’s ironic, ’cause he got wetted for spillin’ his drink on me (Boom, boom, boom)
Needs resuscitation just to help him breathe
Man drown when it’s an internal bleed
But I don’t care for your nickname, or your last name
Anyone can get R.I.P.’d (Woo)
Chorus: Tion Wayne & Russ Millions
Man, I’m still up on the roads, could’ve left (Mm-mm)
Still chattin’ to my bros on the tech’ (Bah, bah)
Fuck that, man, I don’t give a F (Brrr)
What, you wanna get smoked? Cigarette
English, English girl named Fiona
African girl, Adeola
Body-ody shaped like Cola
Back up, back up, ayy, come closer
Verse five: Fivio Foreign
Look, huh, hol’ up (Hol’ up, hol’ up, hol’ up)
I think I know her (Uh)
I don’t like your tone, girl, talk a little lower (Nah)
Nigga get shot for smokin’ my roll-up (Boom, boom, huh)
You said you got it now you gotta show up (Yeah)
Shawty gon’ suck me up until it’s over (Yeah)
She like a little pretzel, you can fold her (Nah)
She got the twenty inches with the closer, huh
Yeah, 808 (Uh, yeah)
No, I don’t play no games (Nah)
I don’t say nothin’, I don’t clear no names (Nah)
If mans not hot, then mans not sayin’ (Look)
If mans get boomed, then I get blamed (Boom)
I took a Perky, I’m out of my brain
I ain’t never steppin’ out of my lane (Nah)
Man, I did a lot of shit, man, I’m, proud of my name (Uh)
Verse six: ZT
(Z-Z; woo) ZT, I’m a C double S (Yes)
Chest shot specialist, wet man’s chest
B double S (Ayy), backshot specialist
Bruck up the pum-pum, leave that wet
Bad B’s in love with the set, no stress, get bread
And we set them trends, no meds
We flex on the opps, get vexed
No net, but you know that we scored on them (Boom, boom)
Me and E just stepped on scene, SOS for an anti-green
AFG is an anti team, I don’t know about them, got a rams on me (Mm-mm)
I see one of them IC3’s, I make the hand ting beat (Brap, brap)
Neezy stuck in the streets (Mm-mm)
Shoutout my 3×3’s (Brrr, brap)
Verse seven: Darkoo
Touch-touch my watch, man, you must be crazy (Bad him up)
Had an Rollie, then I switched to the AP (Boom)
Body like an earthquake, somethin’ like Haiti (Ah)
She knows me in pages, she callin’ me “Baby” (Yes)
In twenty-three hours, had them bring that back (Bring it)
A Rolex can’t phase me
Time be money, so bitch come pay me
Swing both ways so bring your lady
Jig-jiggy with the baddie, wanna come get jiggy with it
And I ain’t talking waps (Really), but she know that I’m strapped
(Really, really with it) Yeah, you know me, I’m really, really with it
Can’t compare when you talk about stacks
Can’t compare when you talk about stacks
Hundred K when I pay my tax
Bend it, shawty wanna make it clap
Bend it, shawty wanna arch her back
Verse eight: Buni & Tion Wayne
“Gun lean get shot from the backseat”
‘Til man pull up and bun out the backseat (Nakky)
Gassed up, top boy like Ashley
Tappy, swing, get ying up badly (Ying)
Good dick make gyal scream “Papi”
She holds my wappy, she makes me happy (Mm-mm)
You know I’m tappy, I chat, and not cappy
I rub my mashy, I’m too-too catty (Too catty)
Make man shake, no Harlem (Wah?)
Gassed up, 300, no Spartan (Oi)
I beg man pardon, dot-dot blastin’
Might get blicked where you’re two-step dancin’ (Brrr)
I do no talkin’, the gyal, I’m clartin’
It’s your boy in a spliff, I rass him (Mm-mm)
Bro red card him, shots, no warning (Yo)
When I see red, I’m chargin’ (Dead)
Chorus: Tion Wayne & Russ Millions
Man, I’m still up on the roads, could’ve left (Mm-mm)
Still chattin’ to my bros on the tech’ (Bah, bah)
Fuck that, man, I don’t give a F (Brrr)
What, you wanna get smoked? Cigarette
English, English girl named Fiona
African girl, Adeola
Body-ody shaped like Cola
Back up, back up, ayy, come closer