Lyrics R U Dumb? - Wiley, Tempa T, Cookie

R U Dumb?

You think you’re a badman to the fullest
Cause you got a couple of shotbun gullets
Don’t run it up and make me get dark
Cause I will chief you up in the par cark
Tell your girlfriend to leave me alone
Stop ringing my phobile mone
Serious, it’s getting on top
Jeez, can’t even shop to the bops
I’m slim but I ain’t got anorexia
I spit like I’ve got dyslexia
You don’t want to make me get vexed
Or you’ll find out about my tourettes
Boy Better Know
Don’t mess with Skepta, my bro
My family, Joseph Junior
My name’s Jamie Adenu-
Shh hut yuh muh
Derkhead, wasteman, poomplex
I don’t know what you’re thinking
But it’s not a me-and-you-spitting-in-the-same-room flex
When I enter, you exit, cah
You said shit 'bout me and Skepta
See, now shit can’t be perfect, cah
You let the situation get complex
Shh hut yuh muh
Derkhead, wasteman, poomplex
I don’t know what you’re thinking
But it’s not a me-and-you-spitting-in-the-same-room flex
When I enter, you exit, cah
You said shit 'bout me and Skepta
See, now shit can’t be perfect, cah
You let the situation get complex
Yo, yo, well everything seems clearer
Seems like Eskiboy is the key bearer
You on my level?
No you ain’t getting any closer
Than last time I checked you’re getting nearer, blud
I can’t hear ya, your best friends
Can’t compare ya, when I’m 'ere, come out the area
How dare ya, ya getting bright
Might get a couple shots in your new Porsche Carrera
Yep, yep, yep, I eat lamb curry and roti
I’m a war MC, they can all quote me
And I might punch you in the boaty
When you get up everything seems floaty
I guess you wanna find me but I move low key
In your house with no key, climb through the window
You know me, my name’s Wiley
Yeah I’m that brere with a goatie
You and your boys came round and thought you could fold me
I’m from a city, not Holby
Who’s this chavvy looking brere?
He looks like Jan Mølby
It sounds like he’s talking in Dolby
Telling me he’s gonna leave my t-shirt holey
Wasteman, he can’t test Wiley Coyote
If it’s the last thing I’ll do I’ll revenge
Anybody that tries to stop me or hold me
It’s the downtown boy
Drop boys to the floor then I stamp down boys
Boys get boyed, oh boy
I’m not a boy, I make big boys look smaller
Downtown baller, clamp down boys
Drop boys to the floor then I stamp down boys
Boys get boyed, oh boy
I’m not a boy, I make big boys, look
I’m in and around the bits, see me around the strip
They can never hold Cooks down, I’m bound to flip
I know you’re bound to slip, walking around
The hood with no gun, it’s obvious you ain’t down for it
I know I’m down for it
You can catch me down town, with the goonies from round town
We hold it down
Used to be so many guys on the road but we own it now
I ain’t saying I’m the realest
But I’ve been around some realness
Some guys hate my bars cause they can’t relate to the real shit
They don’t know about bare knuckle fist fights
Knocking out guys on a quick hype
Trying to make a little P, pan full of drugs and a flick knife
Yeah I’m quite pretty but ask about Cooks in the hood
You’ll be told he’s a sick guy
Pricks like you just get a beating
Nike Air Dunks, I’m there stamping
You can’t move or stand up, I’m beating
Get left on the floor, you’re wheezing
My boys round the corner, creeping
Cock back and hear man, blasting
Headshots are raining, bleeding
You can’t move or stand up, you’re
And I like you’re teasing
Draw for the mash, man’ll start breezing
Ducking out fast, they’re not screaming
Went into the woods start the
When he sees me
My four five, pop that, chest squeezing
Your your easing
Lacking for the key cause I’m not starting
Dash you in the back of the flats
Grips, bang him
He’s on the floor
No movement, he’s on the floor