Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Live, artist - JME. Album song Grime MC, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 31.05.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Boy Better Know
Song language: English
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 |