Hey there, I want to tell you about a cool song called “Line of Fire, Pt. 8 Lyrics” by an artist named Skrapz, Trapstar Toxic, Streetz, Fatz, Cash Money & Storm Millian. It’s part of an album called “REFLECTION,” released in 2024. The music for this track was created by Oakwood & Lowfades, while the lyrics were a collaboration between Skrapz, Trapstar Toxic, Streetz (ICB), Fatz (ICB), Cash Money, Storm Millian & Oakwood. So, if you’re into music, this might be something you’d enjoy checking out!

Line of Fire, Pt. 8 Lyrics

Uh, she said she doesn’t speak no English
They said I’m toxic like Future Hendrix
I hopped out of the Benz and I looked expensive
Glock-17 with the clip extended
I lost count of all the money that I spended
I’m still living splendid
Been winning from the start, it just never ended
I jumped in the coupe, start the engine
I had to fly Wimbledon, Alperton, then to Hendon
I’m the one that they been recommending
I’m highly recommended
MAC-10 made the whole of them dead
I make my little nigga crack your egghead
I’m still saying, “Fuck feds”
My young bucks ride around on mopeds
Tryna blow niggas’ heads off
The bike just pulled up, then it revved off
Tell them niggas that they’re dead stock
I been married to the streets long time, still in wedlock (Uh, uh)

Ayo, Skrapz fam, I need my money so tall
So when I land, that’s four figures off a phone call
Season one like it’s Snowfall
My niggas tryna bill a line, you know I hit ’em with some snowballs
I’m buying low, I’m selling high like the stock trade
Devil may cry, I got a block full of Dante’s
Swinging ZK, rearrange your membrane
First time I beat off my wap, they made ten plates
I’m smoking Lemon Cherry, I had trouble sleeping
Flashbacks, I let it sing like Ronan Keating
Up in Camden then towards the last one in Neasden
Had to air it out in Forces like he’s undefeated
The feds had us up in cuffs
I don’t know who to trust when I really deep it
I write bars, but don’t do the speeches
Guess I’m battling my inner demons
They know that Tookies in the trap, he ain’t ever stealing

And go and put it on your life, that’s a head shot
Laser, that’s a red dot, buying what the rest got
And I picked the best spot, rest up
Thought you was the man, but you messed up
Fam, I’m the next up (Next up)
And that bitch is only bad from the neck up (Head)
Still, I’m in her yard, food on her desktop (Comfy)
Feeling brand new, move with the fresh bop (Huh?)
I feel the hate, look at you tryna dress up (I feel it)
Far as now, I still fly hard brow (Fly)
Low tee, far brown, pedal bikes, card out (Heavy)
Heavy like Miles Brown, we get bricks, ask ’round
No trips, far town, big whips, car sound (Skrrt)
I don’t care about them niggas if you ask me (Nah)
Just ’cause you wear Fatigues don’t mean you’re in the army (Army)
Got on a vest, you know the rest in the party (Huh?)
If I select, watch your step, make corn beat your heartbeat

Gave Papi straight life on his first offence (Papi)
Cah we gun down niggas, make ’em skrrt the fence (Dead)
Clap niggas in the face when they talk tough (Fuss)
Got the scorps and the maccy on the tour bus (Gang)
Niggas know when I spaz, I go get the tool (What?)
Then get the food, head back vegetable (Getting)
You know we keep still, I don’t do E pills
Get two down in a day, that’s how we drill (That’s how we drill)
Clap it anywhere, I gotta tell bro, “Don’t record” (Don’t record)
Out here, same thing even if we go abroad
All we do is double-tap, run the old ends like (Double-tap)
All you niggas running track and I ain’t into none of that
It’s kinda mad because we’re the ones that do the mazzas
(The mad ting, the mad ting, nah)
Straight five star attire, ain’t nothing flyer
I make the .45 sing like the church choir

When you see a real crime scene you call Skrapz, Jazzy or Fatz
Cash to the Crime Scene, love metal straps
Bring di rifle with di short back full of gunshot
Mi nah call cops, we nah call cops
Body haffi drop a ground, fool haffi act up
So mi eyeball dem, make a contract
Mi deal with pagan boy just like a contract killing
Four-five spinning, had the nine milli
Eagle nuh stop fly, unnu cyaa see mi?
MAC-11 touch di road and dem gone silly
Mr Die Harder, no dem cyaa kill me
And most definitely boy, dem cyaa feel it
From London to Brizzy
Crime Scene around the bloodclaat city
Unnu see me, unnu bloodclaat dizzy

Vinny whipping kuba, got it looking like dough for patty
Really in the trap, nitties smelling like shitty nappies
I don’t sleep, I nap then it’s back to them pissy alleys
Fifteen for the day, I ain’t seen a squally
Proper shit, this ain’t Molly darg, ain’t no lardi dardi
Built my line back in the day, I don’t Playboi Carti
Up suh, down suh, even the opp’s territory
I’m pulling up on nitties like “Yo, you don’t remember me?”
Rubber band stacks so much money, it’s a giveaway
When mama found a pack, I just bought me another plate
Niggas go O.T. for what I make on a summer day
It’s like surgery how I’m dicing with these razor blades
Niggas really fear me, I don’t need to do a thing
Mama praying for me, she don’t wanna lose her kid
Just the other day, I tried to put it through his wig
I’m intercepting niggas shots boy, I’m on the strip


Song: Line of Fire, Pt. 8
Artist: Skrapz, Trapstar Toxic, Streetz, Fatz, Cash Money & Storm Millian
Album: REFLECTION (2024)
Music: Oakwood & Lowfades
Lyrics: Skrapz, Trapstar Toxic, Streetz (ICB), Fatz (ICB), Cash Money, Storm Millian & Oakwood

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