Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Hail , by - Kano. Release date: 03.03.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Hail |
| Welcome to the jungle |
| King of this shit, Royal Blood, welcome to the rumble |
| Every man for himself, coco be wary, I square you now |
| Inside the square circle cuz, curb your trust |
| If I kill us and rob us and serve us up |
| Snakes in the grass couldn’t turf a cup |
| Can’t befriend then burgle us |
| Killing these bills, Uma Therman’d up |
| Getting that belly like Sherman Klump |
| Show’s over when the curtains shut |
| But mines are blinds and I’m turning up |
| Who are ya? |
| Bet you heard of us |
| Big mic man like merciless |
| They say grime’s not popping like it was back then |
| Rap’s not honest like it was back then |
| When I get gassed in the booth like this |
| Niggas go bonkers like it was MAC-10 |
| Roll Jack Jones if it ain’t man dem |
| And again and again |
| Roll Jack Jones if it ain’t man dem |
| Don’t make money but it does make sense |
| Karmas have answered us |
| Light up a dance like bars when there’s sparklers |
| Out in Marms with an army of armsmens |
| Pure click, |
| I begin, booked a studio in |
| Rolling the rustlers, holy bivariate |
| Then I be back in East with the Gs |
| That ain’t no gangsters, mate, that’s the governors |
| Sweet geez, ark at him |
| Cotching on Ermine Road where the barber’s is |
| With a whole leap of man get enough of us |
| You know them man that draw 9 for an argument |
| That shamone, you’re a man like it’s nothing then |
| Come and round up the sticks like carpenters |
| You wanna squash that beef but it started |
| Man’ll go door like «I'll let you buy a carpet» |
| Stick to the script |
| Real educated ignorant shit |
| Don Perignon just to binge on the shit |
| Yo, if it bubbles, put your finger in it |
| White chicks sling G-strings when I spit |
| Blacker days, would’ve got lynched for this shit |
| Would’ve got whipped for this shit |
| Now I push a German Whip on a bitch |
| Now everybody wanna get Jigga rich quick |
| What they handed to them likkle privileged kids |
| Hands in the cookie jar, ripping off ribs |
| I guess that’s taking the flipping biscuit |
| Stealing a living with your sticky fingers |
| Crossing that pond and fishing for hits |
| We both gain from a little influence |
| But how comes nobody credits us Brits? |
| This ain’t no RP cup of tea music |
| This real east end theme music |
| No, I don’t know the Queen |
| But that bitch stays in my jean pocket |
| No dubstepping on my toes |
| Don’t fuck with my drum and bass |
| Shuffling to some council house |
| But it gets grimy in these raves |
| I’ve had dubplates on acetate |
| Dun know Kano was here |
| Used to shop in catalogs, now my catalog’ll |
| Give these soundboys diarrhoea |
| Smash all of your CD rack |
| Won’t get none of your CDs back |
| Clear all of your CD rack |
| Won’t get none of your CDs back |
| Smash all of your CD rack |
| Won’t get none of your CDs back |
| Clear all of your CD rack |
| Won’t get none of your CDs back |
| Welcome to the jungle |
| King of this shit, Royal Blood, welcome to the rumble |
| Every man for himself, coco be wary, I square you now |
| Inside the square circle cuz, curb your trust |
| If I kill us and rob us and serve us up |