Lyrics On Dis Ting - Devilman

On Dis Ting

Yo Skepta, don’t talk shit, are you crazy?
You can’t come to my area
2015's got scarier
Fuck off with your malaria
Don’t talk shit about me and my situation
With your bullshit instigation
The informing allegation
Got sorted so if you’re gonna send for me
If you’re gonna say something, send for me properly
Saying shit everybody knows already
You took my flows already
And I heard that he said em at 100 shows already
You’re lucky that Dizzle Kid never bust your nose already
I heard your send, you say that I’m nasty but
Everybody knows already
I’m a dirty bastard, go and ask Jenny
Wanna talk about man showing face in my video
But yet still he don’t wanna show yours
Why do you wanna see my people’s face?
What the fuck do you get up to behind closed doors?
You sound worse than you did years ago
A rematch in a clash, I’ll murk you bro
Murk you on drum and bass or murk you slow
Fuck Skepta, look at this turkey though
Leave a man with metal in jaws
I’m gonna keep settling scores
Skepta’s pissed off cause I sold him a halfers of cheese and he could only make
four draws
Go on then, give me a round of applause
Nong xiaomi, ni hao,
wun sen pars
I’m sure that most of the time you spit
You always use my bars, not yours
Yo blud, what do you think this thing is?
This ain’t 2005
I don’t give a fuck what plane that you fly
Might get something aimed at your eye
You ain’t the microphone champion, that’s a straight up lie
It’s the wunmi xiaomi xi wun sen wun sen
You know that’s I
What you doing with them USA guys?
Transsexuals and bis
Every other day, somebody dies
But today, Skepta’s funeral
Leave a man’s body in a cubicle
We all know that you don’t wanna clash
So you try to bring up the past, but it’s not gonna last
Get your head smashed through the glass
Now here’s a little blast from the past
Everybody knows I’m like no other
Already murked off you and your brother
Lord of the Mics 2, if I was with my man dem
You would’ve hid under the cover
Jammer told me not to bring no one
Cause he heard stuff about 0121
You don’t know any serious dons in my ends
You haven’t got a clue, don
You’re only a vet by time
You’re a popstar, you ain’t a vet by grime
You’ve got a feature off Birmingham man
But you’ve still never brought them through, that’s fine
Don’t worry, I’m gonna get my shine
Your send was shit,
you sound like you’re losing it
Oi Skepta, I’m not gonna lie, I respect ya
But your future, I’m choosing it
OK then, come with the next flow
20 bags, Lord of the Mics, yeah, let’s go
I’ve got the jet flow, please don’t get upset, bro
You don’t want it on a set though
Let go, I’ll push something in your neck slow
Murk you on bashment, grime or techno
Think you could ever murk me?
Heck no
Straight up, no indirect, bro