Lyrics Nutcrackerz - Dizzee Rascal, Giggs

Nutcrackerz

Cause man ain’t bumping him or you
Man ain’t bumping him either
Man ain’t come for him
Man ain’t come to grin neither
Man ain’t comforting geezers, ease up
Man ain’t jumping in neither
Man just jumpy and eager beavers
Shit ain’t sunken in neither
Man just old school from Gloucester Grove
When man had comfortable Fila
Back when Aston didn’t even live there
It was Josh and Makeda
Back when gangsters weren’t even shooting
Man took chunks with that cleaver
Back all Super Dee, Stone Love days
Yep, Jamrock Sound, Metro Media
Back in the day when I was broke
I was on Bow Road and looking out for eaters
Back in the day before I had seven figures
Our bredders were begging me for features
Back in the day before bloggers and tweeters
Before they knew I was a genius
They were the days when I was excluded
From school for fucking with my teachers
I was so damn facetious
I would leave em with fevers
Seizures, bunch of holes in my sneakers
Back in the day before I had that
Brand new Range Rover, looking devious
Previous, I was moving mischievous
None of my girlfriends were divas
Making moves was the easiest
Please don’t make me get deeper
I was linking Kamika
Ice Rink and that Creeper
Had em dropping in caesars
Jesus, bunch of unstable geezers
Bunch of peelers and dealers
Demons, they were holding them beaters
We were owning them speakers
Man came back with that classic crack shit
Man came back with that Raskit
Rolled up with them Rottweilers
And came back with Bullmastiffs
Quickly grab them six brownings
Women grab me two taxis
There’s a negative and a plus side
Hollow’s back with new batteries
Hold up, coming back for you fassies
Better run home, call that prat the new Lassie
Them two straps are too massive
Jumped out, pap pap pap with two maccies
Quick, jump back in front seat and back seat
Pricks get bought Ribena and Capri
Don’t gas me
I was on the back streets, couldn’t catch me
On a jack spree
They looking at me like «why you wanna rap me?», that’s crappy
I was ashy, not flashy
They couldn’t hack me
All-black in my Nike Air tracky
And I went all out on a fassy
And I didn’t make beats on a lappy
What you know about Rex in Stratty?
Exactly
Had a yatty, in Hackney
Big batty, a bit scatty
But I was happy
Cause she cooked saltfish and ackee
She didn’t clap me
So I’ve gotta give thanks to Selassie
Shy FX and UK Apache
The speaker blowing, better keep it going
Mention Hollowman when your speaker flowing
Get that mozzarella cheese, get the pizza going
Seen your gully side, now your weak is showing
My nigga Dizzee Ras, they say he’s a poet
They hear we drop a track, niggas tippy-toeing
Don’t come around a man with your pissy poems
I’ve got bitches on my dick and their lippy showing