| Now I’m in town, break it down, thinking of making a new sound
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| Playing a different show every night in front of a new crowd
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| That’s you now, Ciao, seems that life is great now
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| See me lose focus as I sing to you loud
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| I can’t, no, I won’t hush
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| I’ll say the words that make you blush
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| I’m gonna sing this now
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| See, I’m true, my songs are where my heart is
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| I’m like glue I stick to other artists
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| I’m not you, now that would be disastrous
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| Let me sing and do my thing and move to greener pastures
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| See, I’m real, I do it all, it’s all me
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| I’m not fake, don’t ever call me lazy
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| I won’t stay put, give me the chance to be free
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| Suffolk sadly seems to sort of suffocate me
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you at all
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you at all
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| You need me
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| I sing and write my own tune and I write my own verse hell
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| Don’t need another word-smith to make my tunes sell
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| Call yourself a singer-writer, you’re just bluffing
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| Your name’s on the credits and you didn’t write nothing
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| I sing, fast, I know that all my shit’s cool
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| I will blast and I didn’t go to Brit school
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| I came fast with the way I act, right
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| I can’t last, if I’m smoking on a crack pipe
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| And I won’t be a product of my genre
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| My mind will always be stronger than my songs are
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| Never believe the bullshit that fake guys feed to ya
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| Always read the stories that you hear in Wikipedia
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| Musically I’m demonstrating
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| When I perform live, feels like I am meditating
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| Times at The Enterprise when some fella filmed me
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| «A young singer writer like a Gabriella Cilmi»
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you at all
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you at all
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| You need me
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| All I want in this cold world is to make music and use it
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| Not to abuse it and get affected, infected with the who’s who of music
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| Who did it, who is it, who’s in it or what the hell does it matter?
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| Chitter chatter, don’t matter what a yidder, yidder, yadder, it don’t matter to
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| me
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| All I want is a bit of dignity in me to battle this industry freely
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| To be me in this seedy, needy world, can you hear me?
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| Hey, so I keep singing that
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| When I first started this rapping shit I felt pressure from haters
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| Became invaded with sadists and just developed a hater radar
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| And made for the stars, kept my grind in the dark
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| And then appeared with a remedy kicking rhymes with a melody
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| Hennesey shots and glocks, all these fools on the block
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| Who said you gotta be a gangster now to raise to the top?
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| I’m just a normal, casual, usual, everyday type of guy
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| With my head in the sky, Ed Sheeran, urban angel coming ready to die
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| So see the signs, stand to the side
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| Open your eyes and take a look and realise
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| The resurrection’s arrived and as the mist clears
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| I arise from my tomb in disguise, all alone, alonestar
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| Urban angel rising from the ashes
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| Surprising all haters, guiding, now moving steady
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| You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub
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| Mummy I’ve got the X if you’re into taking drugs
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| Into having sex, I ain’t into making love
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| Come give me a hug if you’re into getting rough
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| You can find me in the club, bottle full of bubbly
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| Mummy I’ve got the X if you’re into taking drugs
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| Into having sex, I ain’t into making love
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| Come give me a hug if you’re into getting rough
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you
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| You need me, man, I dont need you
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| My eyes are red, I’ve been burning, I’ve been burning
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| My eyes are red, I’ve been burning, I’ve been burning
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| My eyes are red I’ve been burning, I’ve been burning on a spliff off your high
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| grade
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| My eyes are red I’ve been burning, I’ve been burning, burning, burning |
| Now where I come from burning weed it is a habit
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| A big fat bag of high grade weed, you know I got to have it
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| Cos if I don’t have it in my pocket I’m going to panic
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| Cos like I said where I come from weed smoking is a habit
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| Yup, we’ll do da bun in the place up in the hood
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| One of them things I have inherited like a ghetto man should
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| One of them things is smoking weed it yes it makes me feel good
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| Burning high grade sensimilla, yes it makes me feel
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| But me is a man, ah, talk about sensimilla is a drug
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| And if I start to smoke it I’mma-nna turn into a thug
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| Where I come from that they talking could that only get you mugged
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| Where I come from burning weed it is a blessing from above
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| Where I come from yes we bun it when we listen rub a dub
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| Where I come from yes we bun after we just-a make a love
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| Where I come from yes we bun it when the sun starts shine
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| I blaze high grade weed all the time!
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| Now my eyes are red
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| Cause you need me, I don’t need you
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| You need me man, my eyes are red
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| You need me man, I don’t need you
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| You need me man, my eyes are red
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| And you need me, I don’t need you
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| You need me man, my eyes are red
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| You need me man, I don’t need you
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| You need me man, I don’t need you
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| Woooah
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| Woooah
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| Woooah
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| Yeah
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| Cause with the lyrics I’ll be aiming it right
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| I won’t stop until my name’s in lights
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| With stadium heights, with damian rice
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| On red carpets, now I’m on Arabian nights
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| Because I’m young I know my brothers gonna give me advice
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| Long nighter, short height and I gone hyper
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| Never be anything but a singer/songwriter, yeah
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| The game’s over but now I’m on a new level
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| Watch how I step on the track without a loop pedal
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| People think that I’m bound to blow up
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| I’ve done around about a thousand shows but
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| I haven’t got a house plus I live on a couch
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| So you believe the lyrics when I’m singing them out
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| Wow, from day one I’ve been prepared
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| With v05 wax for my ginger hair
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| Now I’m back to the sofa giving a dose of
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| What the future holds cause it’s another day
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| Rucksack with the old clothes, I rap with cold flows
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| I’m back with the most jokes, in fact you don’t know
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| On tracks I throw blows to make my punchlines relevant
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| If you can’t keep up you’ll get none, you’re celibate
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| My flows developing, skin lacks the melanin
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| Give me a shot of adrenaline and I get it in
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| I do it for the hell of it
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| Ever since I hit the mainstream with The A Team I seem to sell a bit
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| I took what held me back with the women and then I packaged the image
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| Put in some content and I then I sold it back as a gimmick
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| The fact is this, I’ll end up dating actresses
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| Wake up on dirty mattresses, I think I’ll need to practice this
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| But I make shit happen, call me a laxative
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| World’s on my shoulders, I don’t even know what atlas is
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| Hard bars sharp like a cactus is
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| I’m back to rappping, back to back cause I’ve been practicing
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| I’m back to sing this
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you at all
|
| You need me, man, I don’t need you
|
| You need me, man, I don’t need you
|
| You need me, man, I don’t need you
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| You need me, man, I don’t need you at all
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| You need me
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| I’ll keep my last name forever, keep this genre pretty basic
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| And I’ll be breaking into other people’s tunes when I chase it
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| And replace it with the elephant in the room with a facelift
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| Into another rapper shoes using new laces
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| I’m selling CD’s from my rucksack aiming for the papers
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| Selling CD’s from my rucksack aiming for the majors
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| Nationwide tour with just jack, still had to get the bus back
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| Clean cut kid without a razor for the moustache
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| I hit back, when the pen hurts me
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| I’m still a choir boy in a fenchurch tee
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| I’m still the same as a year ago but more people hear me though
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| According to the MySpace and Youtube videos
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| I’m always doing shows if I’m not I’m in the studio
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| Truly broke, never growing up, call me rufio
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| Melody music maker, reading all the papers
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| They say I’m up and coming like I’m fucking in an elevator
|
| You need me, man, I don’t need you
|
| You need me, man, I don’t need you
|
| You need me, man, I don’t need you at all |
| You need me, man, I don’t need you
|
| You need me, man, I don’t need you
|
| You need me, man, I don’t need you
|
| You need me, man, I don’t need you at all
|
| You need me, man, I dont need you |