[Intro]
Blackwater boppin’
I ain’t gotta tell broski “chop him”
Stab man’s face ‘til he's got no face left
Now he can’t have no open coffin
I’m a real Eastender
Step with the dot tryna tear up cotton
(Ay, Tweeko mixed this ya know, it sounds cold)
It’s old and it’s always smoking so I called this shotgun Dot Cotton

[Verse 1]
I’m with Dot Cotton and she’s got two nostrils that sneeze
I don’t care if I’m at a red light
Any opp in sight, then the light is green
Treat the opp block like McDees, cah we drive through and just eat this beef
His sisters as dead as her brother
The only difference is that she breathes
Hug this dots and give it a squeeze
And I ain’t talking about cuddles
Leave man wet like he stepped in a puddle
Neighbours scream when the tyres screech
First time I put hands on gun was a .32 given to me by Reekz
And the day that I turned 21 was my fifth birthday in HMP
I don’t wanna see no 6 get thrown up
Get poked up if you throw up a C
Put a hole in your face, now you look like a doughnut
It ain’t no Krispy Kremes
If I heard there’s grub in the yard, and I heard that your boy got ps
I’m knocking the door like trick or treat
With a mask on my face like it’s Halloween
I’m with Dot Cotton and this dot cotton ain’t the one you saw on TV
This is the one that slaps at you and has your mum screaming “RIP”
Its got two triggers and two black bells
Some come see through, red and green
Man get smoked when I burn that bridge
Fire brigade can’t stop this heat
Why do they talk so much in the net, since when did gang members do social media?
Man might slide to your block with a mop and a boiler suit like your local cleaner
I chinged up my man, he screamed out “Stop!”
But I pushed it deeper
Fuck Cressida Dick, that fucking bitch just couldn’t stop locking my gs up
2 pop in a 2 liter
No 1 pop, 1s not enough
Them man cut, but us man cut them
That’s two different types of cut
Get uncomfortable, pain in your gut
When I introduce this rusty knife
Carry out surgical procedures
Even though I’m not qualified
Blackwater boppin’
I ain’t gotta tell broski “chop him”
Stab man’s face ‘til he's got no face left
Now he can’t have no open coffin
I’m a real Eastender
Step with the dot tryna tear up cotton
It’s old and it’s always smoking so I called this shotgun Dot Cotton