Top bins and block wins

[Verse 1] Out on the pitch or I’m out on the strip, one-two step then I ghost like a myth. Slide in clean, that’s a tackle or lick, Bit full of dreams and a bag full of flips [Verse 2] Scouts want talent,the block want fire, Pressure in both, but I never retire. Knee slide goals or I’m dashing from wire, Streets raised me,I was born in the fryer [Chorus] Top bins of when I shoot,no misses, Still got beef in the field no dishes. Game on lock like four-four-two, from the cage to the curb man’s true [Verse 3] Ball in my feet or a pack in my bag, running down wings or I’m dodging a van. It’s footy or felons I’m chasing the wins, from the mud to the stars-top bins, block wins [Verse 3] Fake friends fall like kits in the rain, only team I trust wears blood in their vein. Go line tech if they step in my lane, I’m VAR ready-I’m checking the game [End] Top bins of when I shoot,no misses, Still got beef in the field no dishes. Game on lock like four-four-two, from the cage to the curb man’s true