| It’s time to up the levels again
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| A new mc’s born every weekend
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| If your an mc don’t try and be freindly
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| Cause I will not holla back like gwen
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| You’ll get no air time like space
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| Frankly there’s not enough space
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| There’s already too many stars like space
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| And I’m not avin a bar like space
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| So shut ya mout gimme space gimme room
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| If ya don’t then you will be facin ya doom
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| My lyrics are deeper than a base on a tune
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| With hidden messages like the face of the moon
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| My lyrics will cheap up ya rhymes
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| You just chat about beef all the time
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| Your content is weeker than mine
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| Your dry lyrics need some e45
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| Bare mc’s just lie too much
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| If not then they say like too much
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| Easy peasy similies used frequently realy gets on my nerves
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| High like sky
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| Big like ben
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| Air like pie
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| That’s what you do all the time in ya rhymes
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| Not like mine
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| When I come round it’s metaphor time
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| I’m so deep, when I come around, your ears pop,
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| When I spit lyrics your ears stop
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| Pickin up the ambient sounds around cause I’m on top
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| Your so weak, when I come around, you best not
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| Spit no lyrics, go have a drink, swag mc’s, spit with me,
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| Die in the lick
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| It’s not a good career choice
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| My lyrics will deminish your voice
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| If this was your lyric, you’d sayin sumfin like me bein crap in your rolls royce
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| Not JME, that’s too predictable
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| Blud, what would I rhyme with «Royce»?
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| I’ll say sumfin deep like, when I go festivals
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| I don’t pay the ticket kiosk
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| My names on the list
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| V.I.p wristband triple A card
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| Hangin from ma nekk
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| Your not a musician, put you in a room with a computer you just surf the net
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| Not me, I open fruit loops, cubase, pro tools, logic, reason,
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| Abelton live, I don’t give a shit
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| So turn on the computer, make a hit
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| See Jme, hes in charge
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| I ain’t never been stealing cars
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| I’m meetin stars
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| My tunes will make ya mouth water, just like sweety jars
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| I’m repeating bars
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| Cause that’s me, individual I didn’t cheat in class
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| You lot thicker than windscreen glass
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| Lyk kano I got beats and bars
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| My album will soon be out, you can cop that,
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| Straight off the shelve like greeting cards
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| 1s and 2s and 3s on the charts
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| When in HMV breezin past
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| My lyrics are serious leavin scars
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| Like skepta you hear me in cars
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| I’m not a cheat but I’m breezin past
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| Like a cheater, your a cow eatin grass
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| Wanna see me in big car chase
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| I’m guna grind in the paper chase
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| Before all my skate park days
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| Before music made the 8 bar phrase
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| LISTENNN! |
| like timble
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| While Jme’s hittin the right symbol
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| Riddim is cold like a winter day
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| Listen as the base gets syncopates
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| Trust, can’t get rid of me since
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| I learned how to export the midi sequence
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| Skepta and Jme are rock
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| Them lot got a loud base treble on the top room shot
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| Any wasteman, with a pc
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| Can’t step to Skepta or Jme
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| I don’t care what you thought, can’t beat them at 140 bpm
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| Yo, yo, blud, blud, don’t get rude, rude, rude, rude boi, boi warning you
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| You, you, no, no, I don’t normally slew, slew me thatll be the end of you
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| All this bad boy talk is nothin
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| Got a slit face like you wanna say somethin
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| Don’t get rude, blud I said don’t get rude
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| Or I will start up a cuttin
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| Yo, yo, bredrin, fix your face, face, face, facts, facts, you can’t spray
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| Spray Jme blud what did you say
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| Say that agen that’s the end of ya day
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| All this rare tare tare is air
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| Think you’ll scare me if you swear
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| Don’t get rude, blud I said don’t get rude, or I will break your ear |