**"Cheetham Hill Commandments"**
*(Prod. By FrostyBeats)*
**INTRO**
*(Eerie synths, distorted basslines, gun cock sound effect)*
"Cheetham Hill, y’know… *grrt*"
"Jagga on speed dial—opps gettin’ dealt… *skrr*"
**VERSE 1**
Cheetham Hill bred, the dargs in my veins,
MP5s bark, leave opps in the drains.
Bradford? Fuck that, we don’t bang your ends,
Pebble bands flashin’, money trucks get rammed.
Roadman tactics, army drills—no slip-ups,
Yotes in the cut, move weight, no face, no case.
Bentley tints black, jet-set to Marbella,
Rammers hit licks, cash flipped in the cellar.
Jagga just needs one ring, it’s a wrap,
Feds tryna track, but the VPN’s mapped.
Mansions on lock, cameras scan the land,
Cheetham Hill generals—top of the food chain.
**CHORUS**
All I need is a phone call, Jagga spin the block,
MP5s singin’, situations goin’ pop.
Bradford opps turn to chalk, no talk, just bop,
Bentleys on glide, jets in the flock—*skrr!*
No face, no case, but we still leave ’em shocked,
Yotes in the air, money trucks get clocked.
From Cheetham to Dubai, we got the keys to the vault,
All I need is a phone call—Cheetham Hill won’t fall.
**VERSE 2**
Roadman with a passport, Kinshasa to Milan,
Planes full of cargo, no customs scan.
Yotes sniff the yay, lurk ’round the estate,
Feds tryna bait, but the trap’s airtight.
Bentleys on bricks, Mansory kit,
Rammers got sticks, hit a lick, split the profit.
No face camo up, Ghostface, no clan,
Cheetham Hill’s shadows—you won’t see where we stand.
Jagga’s my bro, he’ll spin with a text,
Leave your block in a mess, collect the cheque next.
Mansions got moats, sharks in the pool,
Drill in my DNA, Cheetham Hill rules.
**CHORUS**
All I need is a phone call, Jagga spin the block,
MP5s singin’, situations goin’ pop.
Bradford opps turn to chalk, no talk, just bop,
Bentleys on glide, jets in the flock—*skrr!*
No face, no case, but we still leave ’em shocked,
Yotes in the air, money trucks get clocked.
From Cheetham to Dubai, we got the keys to the vault,
All I need is a phone call—Cheetham Hill won’t fall.
**BRIDGE**
*(Cold piano loop, sub-bass drop)*
"Y’think we playin’? Army drills, we campaign… *brrrt*"
"Jets overhead while y’all stuck on the train… *skrr*"
"Pebble bands colder than a February night… *grrt*"
"Cheetham Hill’s gods—y’all just kites in the sky…"
**VERSE 3**
MP5’s my pen, write sins in the fog,
Bradford man yappin’—send ’em back to the dogs.
Money trucks get rammed, bags stuffed in the Rover,
No face, no case, but the streets know we’re sober.
Yotes in the cut, sniffin’ out the weak links,
Jagga don’t blink, got shooters who don’t think.
Mansions with vaults, gold-plated doors,
Cheetham Hill’s legacy—wars won, no scores.
Planes in the hangar, ready for export,
Feds wanna talk? Send a lawyer, not court.
Bentleys on M6, tints darker than sin,
Cheetham Hill’s throne—where the demons
dJJIMMYS247
