| Like that, yeah?
|
| Ayy, this next one, 'Crudd Central'
|
| The central of crudd
|
| You already know who it is
|
| It’s myself, Unique, the one and only
|
| Oh, you think darkness is your ally. |
| But you merely adopted the dark;
|
| I was born in it, moulded by it. |
| I didn’t see the light until I was already a
|
| man, by then it was nothing to me but blinding!
|
| Back on the violence
|
| The Homicide Writer, rhymes that I’m reviving
|
| Mask on my face like I’m Bane in The Dark Knight Rises
|
| Insane on a dark night, rising
|
| Something that’ll damage you
|
| Don’t go down that avenue
|
| This route will show bullets, I could have in you
|
| See, I could switch to an attitude
|
| Go wild with a mask I’m Crash Bandicoot
|
| Or Jim Carey
|
| Kick back’s mad, haffi lift something heavy
|
| One touch like the iPhone
|
| I’ll have your eyes closed, thinking you’re bold like a ‘berry?
|
| I’ll open your dome on your belly
|
| I’ll have you resting, put you in a casket resting
|
| Under the soil you’ll rest in
|
| I’ll put you in a deep sleep, inception
|
| No offence, but I don’t play well with others
|
| Yeah, yeah, now I don’t care-a
|
| One bang, knock off your breh’s New Era
|
| Who better? |
| You never, too clever
|
| Hugh Heffer, Playboy, true fella
|
| Yeah, I’m like who are you, bredda?
|
| Sixteen show you who can do better
|
| Right now, I don’t care no more
|
| Bullshit, I don’t wanna hear no more
|
| I swear these niggas so fucking shit
|
| I can’t swear no more (oi Ghetts)
|
| I’m in a back alley with a black yatty
|
| Fat batty, I’mma tear those off (bam)
|
| Then order some gun holsters
|
| Put a pair of those on (yeah, yeah)
|
| Fam, spray a sixteen
|
| Kill two MCs that year, then I’m gone
|
| Bring me everyone. |
| EVERYONE!
|
| Bullets fly from 0 to 100 in London
|
| Last year 2000 lungs were punctured
|
| So many gunmen surrounding the circumference
|
| These bruddas are stumbling
|
| If the .45 weren’t about, I would’ve stuck it in (no homo)
|
| And left him suffering
|
| Until a passer-by discovered him, covered in blood
|
| Cousin, I will tuck you in, brudda it’s love
|
| Take a look at what the government’s done
|
| So stressed out, I was plucking him up
|
| Six months later, I was in cuffs
|
| Put me on G-wing, punched up a gov
|
| Man better leave it before he gets slumped
|
| Roachee was moving like he was on drugs
|
| Oh my goodness, has he got a gun?
|
| Them times I was in the ghetto having fun like
|
| Tek the wah and left the wah?
|
| You sound like a pussyhole
|
| Day job, slang ounce
|
| Can’t put my daughter in hand-me-downs
|
| Had a likkle work, I slapped and banged him out
|
| Owe me couple bags? |
| Pussyhole rang me out
|
| Ready when I hear my enemies dem about
|
| TI ting, bring 'em out, bring 'em out
|
| Lick down a witness, hanging out
|
| Born and bred East boy but I’m not a chav
|
| That’s a contender then
|
| Big SO Large will launch an attack
|
| Rise my ting, dem nuh wan' me do that
|
| When your life’s gone and-a you can’t get it back
|
| Check one of my dons, I’ll get dark in a flash
|
| Grime tempo, stop talking jazz
|
| Unplug my headphone, me nuh wan' hear that
|
| Top shottas are back
|
| They think I par with Max
|
| Wonder how my pocket dem so fat
|
| What? |
| You wan' know the answer to that?
|
| No artist ah put plants in a flat
|
| Extractor fan mek the smell hard fi come out
|
| Been jail before, must think I wan' fi go back
|
| Put in so much work, cut me some slack
|
| Cut so many bruddas, they wanna cut me back
|
| So I stay sober, who’s gonna watch me back?
|
| Aww you motherfuckers, okay…
|
| Yeah, it’s effortless, still
|
| I’m a hot boy, stop telling me chill
|
| Think that we ain’t got toys like Smyths
|
| Don’t think that I won’t, rudeboy, cos I will
|
| I’m a Fresh Prince, ask Uncle Phil
|
| Back in the jungle where it gets real
|
| Them YGs ain’t adults, your laptop’s Apple
|
| It might get peeled
|
| Rah, that’s what it’s like in the field
|
| We’ll get the bikes out and ride for the thrill
|
| Too much pride, we ain’t letting shit slide
|
| I bet you’ll recognise when the knife’s in your grill
|
| Yeah, better start writing your will
|
| Me, I don’t write, I describe I feel
|
| It’s dear life, we due to start riots
|
| I’m a hot nigga, stop telling me chill
|
| And we’ll murder every last pussyclart one of dem
|
| When the pump-act kick your frame back with the impact
|
| No part of your torso will be intact |
| Head, legs, ARMS all over the place
|
| Lungs, liver, GUTS all over your face
|
| I’m a dangerous goon
|
| Man know me, I’m a dangerous loon
|
| You wanna run up your mouth with a man like me?
|
| I’ll cock back and make it boom
|
| What d’you know about shanking a man?
|
| When he hit the floor, quickly stamp on a man
|
| You see me, fam? |
| I don’t ramp with a man
|
| I will bounce on his head like I’m skanking on man
|
| Blow your whole head back
|
| With a .45, AK or a MAC
|
| You don’t wanna see the Hitman in attack
|
| I will keep squeezing till the lights turn black
|
| That little bitch need to die
|
| That little bitch need to go on and die
|
| You want irony son? |
| It’s what I see when I’ve set fire to a fireman’s truck,
|
| what the fuck am I relying on? |
| None
|
| I am what you see, I’m still not sure what I’m trying to become
|
| Quiet when I speak
|
| I’ve got a buzz bigger than a hive full of bees
|
| OK, here I come
|
| Think on your feet, time that I feed
|
| I’ma climb from your screen like the girl from The Grudge
|
| Wanna ask me why I’m going on fucked?
|
| I’ve gotta be prick, I’m in a world full of cunts
|
| Oi, where’s Devz? |
| The world’s on my nuts
|
| That’s why I’m bringing hell when I buss
|
| Devil in the kid with the venom in his tongue
|
| Vent flame from my lungs, been sent from the slums to become
|
| More messed in the brain than Bane on cocaine
|
| I came to leave Bruce Wayne slumped
|
| I’m as mad as as hell and I’m not going to take this any more!
|
| I like fire, I’m a live wire
|
| I’m silent but man have got knives like Mike Myers
|
| Open a man’s headtop wide open
|
| Cause I wanna see how his mind’s wired
|
| Can’t get rich off a nigga like I
|
| You can bet your last 50 pence you’ll die trying
|
| Tony Stark, my only darg
|
| Dem cyan’t see me without this iron
|
| He said I ain’t real, he’s lying
|
| In fact, let me run this by him
|
| If I shoot you, I’m brainless
|
| If you shoot me, you’re famous
|
| Cause you’re the man behind Justin dying
|
| Word to Tigger
|
| 10 stacks on the head of a worthless nigga
|
| Young boy, certi killer
|
| Might buy a Rolex from the work you put in yesterday
|
| My man couldn’t purchase it and all the gyal dem saying that he’s worth a look
|
| in
|
| I tell em pull something out on the burbs and push it
|
| And now it’s curtains (PUSSY!)
|
| But it ain’t none of my business, I’m Kermit (PUSSY!)
|
| Now look at you, was it worth it? |
| (PUSSY!)
|
| I don’t know what to say, the only word is (PUSSY!)
|
| Oh shit
|
| You know I ain’t gotta do too much speaking
|
| You must set the levels
|
| Levels are high, motherfuckers better know |