| 69 Manor Road, Sunday morning
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| Dorothy be up but Jennifer be yawning
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| Rachel a get her hair braided, I spoil it
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| One side be looking like Don King, don’t it?
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| Ribs in the oven, catch a whiff
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| Heartless Crew on Mission, catch a crisp biscuit, whoa
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| Ice cream van, yeah, chase it down
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| Screwball, 99 Flake et al
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| Newham Leisure Centre where the girls at
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| Hair gelled down to her face where the curls at
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| Money on the table, Frustration, get mummy’s purse out
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| Forward some summers, I’m racing the latest Merc out, it worked out
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| 'Cept Everton’s not top, but we don’t talk about it
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| Lee and Karys don’t speak, and things ain’t cool with Avril
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| But amongst all the bullshit, it’s love though
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| You’ve gotta love London in the sun, bro, ya dun know
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| That’s what we call T-shirt weather in the manor, my friend
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| There’s nothing like T-shirt weather in the manor, my friend
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| The Gs come out when the sun goes in
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| There something 'bout T-shirt weather in the manor, my friend
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| Barbecue all day, you’re in the garden
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| Breezer and Alizé, get the party starting
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| Gyaldem be loving my TNs, jheeze
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| Back it up and whine pon mi den, big
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| DJ got the Tina Moore and MJ Cole
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| The olders asking for some Dennis Brown but then you got
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| That one elder that wants to be young
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| Dancing on the floor to hype funk
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| The mood switches when the sun goes in
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| And birthday boy’s mum goes in
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| Rudeboys pull up in the Bimmer, yes
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| What’s that smell? |
| That ain’t cigarette
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| Neighbours’ll complain to get the party locked off
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| Just to rain on our parade, but then a younger sprays
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| CS gas, everybody run, bro
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| You’ve gotta love the city in the sun, bro, ya dun know
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| That’s what we call T-shirt weather in the manor, my friend
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| There’s nothing like T-shirt weather in the manor, my friend
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| The Gs come out when the sun goes in
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| There something 'bout T-shirt weather in the manor, my friend
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| And it could all change in a minute, I’ve seen innocent summers turn sinister
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| Tempers flare up, violence is imminent
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| Specially posed, fit but you know the Streets video
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| Here we go, it was all good just a week ago
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| Seems like yesterday we was one people
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| Ten man onstage back to back, bare reloads
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| Ayia Napa weather, quarter lengths
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| They say the globe’s warm and it’s getting hot in the ends
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| That’s when you swap the tees for the vests, but I’m talking Kevlar
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| Cause things just ain’t cool anymore
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| And bricks might ruin your door, trust them youts anymore
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| Never Super Soaker 2000s don’t shoot anymore
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| My deal got signed so the spirits all up
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| We shot the album front cover up by the shops
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| We just wanna rep the manor right, give it props
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| But some bredders run up on man, rah, the beef was on
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| So same night, shots fired, it weren’t even man that did it
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| Buss a man but ride for man and take it where I didn’t envisage
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| Now I’ve got big time crooks calling the house like «what is it?»
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| If we need to put in work, say the word and it’s finished
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| Man just wanna make an album, mind my business
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| All this gangster shit, who wants to sleep with the fishes?
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| Success has a price and it’s pretty
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| Penny for your thoughts and they’ll try make you split it
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| They say the ends love you, then they hate you, then they love you again
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| Then you try change your postcode to W10
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| Grow apart, fall out of love with your friends
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| They’ll say fame made you change but it’s just all them
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| Some of them get cat, some of them go pen
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| Send mi likkle V.O., gwan sit with them
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| Send them one two creps and Ralph Lauren
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| While they build up this picture that I’m 50 Cent
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| Rah, Kano’s your darg, when you land, you’re blessed
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| And these times, I ain’t even blessed Jen
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| Now they all wanna come on tour but that’s per DMs
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| Guest list, me plus thirty men
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| I buy the same Mr Whippy 99
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| But now I’ve got just as much problems and a flake ain’t one
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| Friends turned snakes overnight
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| Cause they think I can take away their problems all with one hit song
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| But I just want the summer back how it used to be
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| When Nanan had us eating toffee apples by the sea
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| Or when we wore Moschino and were moving off key
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| When our chips were down, they weren’t beefing 'bout Ps
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| The purest summers were those in the 90s
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| '05 changed my life forever, it’s bittersweet
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| I’ve been riding that wave, still waters run deep
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| No sound in the ends, still life is a beach
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| And that’s T-shirt weather in the manor, my friend
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| There’s nothing like it
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| '05 shit |