Booga Lyrics – Central Cee

[Intro]
If you don’t get money, you’ll suffer

[Verse]
We don’t take bad up, dem boy there good
Don’t get it confused cah they got their hood up
The beef ting’s boring, I just want Mula
My French ting said, “Do a song with Booba”
Fifty-pointer, they look like booga
Them man, their jewels ain’t real, they’re poopass, huh
Remember, I told shorty we’re gon’ link that day and got stood up
You say that you’re on me, I beg man pull up

(I hate—) I hate when they talk ’bout the T, only grams of the white that you seen is sugar
Bad one smiling at me in the club, but I want the one with the face all push-up
I like girls that aren’t interested, I’ve never spent one pound on a hooker
Eating good, but I still ain’t full up
I’m tryna get my belly big like Buddha
A1, he’s a full-time jugger
Put it on pause, ’cause he just went jummah
Go OT and it look like we’re camping, rambo knife and a portable cooker
Woulda took mans girl, but she ain’t my standard, so my lil’ broski took her
They coulda, shoulda, woulda
It sounds good, but they won’t though, will they?
One-one dread in the T like booka
How you a Ras, but you’re smoking Cohiba?
I-I went school with Mohammed, Abdullah
I know about xabsi, laag, you na’as, Beris and Hilib, I shout out hooyo
Lord, forgive us as I’m a sinner, repent and pray, you accept our sunnah

[Chorus]
Warya, warya, xabad and a guri
I love man, but I don’t trust man fully
I see through them and I don’t feel threatened
They got on a bally and put up their hoodie
It don’t feel real when I say, “Free Mukky”
I’ll be sixty when my broski lands
We don’t take bad up, we don’t get bullied

Them man there pu*sy, they roll like—

[Verse 2]
(Big-big) Big G-Wagon, your girlfriend pass, passy
Playing some Frank Sinatra
Look at the stars, I’m playing some jazz
Bro came back bald ’cause he came from Hajj
Bro came back bolo, he came from Cantis
It’s mad ’cause I just came back from Cannes
If we see one of them, khalas
They can’t come back to my hood, got banned
(W’s) W’s up like Wu Tang Clan
It’s a west side story, Tupac, thug life
Prove that then, if you’re bad, let one fly
Once I ran, but I learnt now
One-by-one, I’ma get man done right
Boom, bye, bine, no knife, it’s gun fight
In the bando, I slept with one eye, now I’m on Bondi Beach, it’s sunrise
A man like me, I’m hard to come by
I made M’s off rap, I’m stable
I done it, no label when I was unsigned
On sight, man, it could still go left
Get cheffed like breakfast, dinner, or lunchtime
Where the demand is, I’m gonna supply
I watched Slumdog Millionaire and relate to the kid from Mumbai