Lyrics Live - JME, Merky Ace

Live

Everything’s live, everything’s live
Fucking hell fam, everything’s live
Behind the tints, in my seat, live
Step out, see me on street, live
Stage shows with my peeps, live
Tre, this fucking beat, live
Big man, done past 30, live
Certi, live, Merky, live
Everyting live-o, just like Raskit
Everyting live, opposite of casket
And the corn live too, make you do a hand spin
Then a backflip, shoulda written pamphlet
Trust, no plan B
MC only, 10 years deep
Badman, no contingency
Doin' this ting in its infancy
Man see me and start do parkour
Rhetorical question, why’s man running for?
Get over here like Kombat
More tools is what I need in war
Stay on point and that
Roadblock, traffic, leave a gap
In front of the whip, in case man has to
Fucking swing a U-turn and double back
The high road is hot
But don’t think man won’t come and cotch
Whether you like it or not
London is my block
The girls from back in the day that used to say
When I had the 'lergies now wanna sex me
Heard through the grapevine that I sell Pepsi
Sike!
I’m just a MC
Kermit’s giving me eyes and sipping Tetley
And if the boydem’s listening live then fucking get me
Or not
I turn my volume up to the top
I didn’t hear the siren, rudeboy, what?
Chatting bare shit about failing to stop
From the tread dirt from my tyres
Tryna maintain and stack legal P
But we still kick out your molar, canines and incisors
And your wisdom teeth
Might see me in your local Sainsbury’s
Testing out the dairy-free cheese
Snapback, BBK tee
Then I jump in the whip with a T
Not no Aventador SV
I’ll tell you like Lethal told me
Don’t cop one if you can’t afford three
Badman for them?
That’s fine, not me
And man brought waps, no ice on me
I done gripsed man’s shirt and slammed man
Like it was a judo key
Still gyal seh I’m cinnamon churros sweet
But she don’t know me
Don’t know about my family tree
Might see me with a couple OGs
Yeah, Boy Better Know Meridian roll deep
Opps Next Door, don’t knock and ask for sugar or milk
Cah we ain’t got nuttin' for you chiefs
Last time you knocked man’s door
You was all asking to turn the music down a piece
Fuck that, feel this bass
Knock all you want, you won’t see this face
Next time I leave my yard
I’ll have my Beats by Dre’s on, just in case
Man wanna converse, dead crep
SK Airs anytime that I step
I’m on my Jones, ain’t got no jewels
But boys on the road still wanna dip sets
I put swammies in a man bag
If he’s the father, I’m the granddad
Turn white t-shirt into tampax
I box, boot and man stab
Heavy in the ting like sandbag
Better yet, wet sandbag
Mad savage, they’re nearly drag
Riding dingers and dipping cab
Man’s sick, no influenza
My aura mek gyal tell Victoria secrets
And expose the centre
Please remember, I roll with guys with a greaze agenda
About you don’t know about grime
Yeah, fam, but you still know about me and Skepta
UK gang shit, been a member
No joke ting, no Bo Selecta
No joke ting, no Inbetweeners
So a date of birth on my Tanitas
Man wanna test in their two-seaters
Man wanna test in their two-litres
Light goes green, if you’re looking for me
Better look in front, about 20 metres
Put this on one track repeaters, repeaters