Lyrics Real Talk - P Money

Real Talk

So what if you recorded and mixed down P Money Is Power?
I gave you back all that respect and power
Nobody could rush you
No one could touch you, G, let alone cuss you
I showed you road and girls and buss you
You was a broke-arse can’t afford bus yout
N.E.
gave you a PC and then buss you
You’re acting like you done it yourself, fuck you!
No, bro, you are the man that’s worthless
You stole from the roof over your head
And took things from the studio, caught red handed on cam
You were trading for pennies from Cash Converters
Opportunist, you were stealing from Mela
How could you steal from Mela?
In fact, how could you steal from his father?
Put that in your sob story, you ain’t clever
I’ve never been moist, it was probably the wetter
Definitely on sight, and it’s probably forever
You wanna mention mum’s yard, come, darg
I will have a shotty and a mask from V for Vendetta
But you ain’t on that, man, I know you
Shut your mout, I don’t owe you
You worked for the guy that was putting out my CD
That’s why the studio time was free
Shut your mout, I don’t owe you
And you can come with a punchline verse
Nothing surprises me when you write for me
'Cause I can hear what I taught you
Stormer was there when I showed you what punchlines were
And Little Dee taught you about multiple rhyming
Like you said in your Fire in the Booth
All you had was beats and shit bars
I mean how else did you think you got this hard?
Wait, we know how you got this hard
Cos you’re only half a writer
Let’s see what your fans are gonna think when
You finally admit that you use Master Writer
For those who don’t know, that’s a program on Windows
You use, when you type in a word
And it comes up with every other word that rhymes
What if I told you he was doing that way before '09?
How dare they compare you and I
I got money and I put on for grime
You got signed, fixed your teeth, put on a suit
And started singing about suicide (Overload)
Years later, talking about breddahs have been blocking you
No one ain’t scared, pop was stopping you
You buried yourself
, that’s why you’re a rotten yout
But you tried to block me though
Man tried to stop me eating
Had me, Tom and Geeneus in a meeting
Man said Dot’s managers are demanding
I be taking off shows, I couldn’t believe him
I was like «Oh my God»
Instead of being a man and turning up to perform songs
You tried performing a gastric bypass
Don’t know why you’re flexing on my cards
Ringing up Vex cos you were scared of my dargs
Whole game failed you on the test that I passed
That’s when banging you up became my task
Send your shots, my shield’s better than a riot guard
I smell a pussyhole in need of some RightGuard
Ran out of Stockwell, ran out of OGz
Ran out of Nando’s, ran out of Hoodstars
Dunno what you done to your mum
But not even Bart was run out by his marj
How are you talking like you got darked?
You played with a short fuse, got sparked
Fuck your drive, press P and get parked
Everybody’s saying it’s gonna be historical
The absent father of grime
Everybody knows the biological father is always diabolical
I don’t have to but you I wanna school
SoundCloud yours, I’ll Spotify mine
You wanted to but you can’t sell lies
No bashment in sight when I turn up at yards
It’s guns, money and ammunition, it’s all cartel vibes
When I know where he lives and I roll through the bits
Lights off, blacked out, nine guys, four straps
Full clips, in the boot man’s got another six
I’ll let one of your fans work out the total eclipse
Remember how you met Shivs?
You were 19, a virgin and shit
No game, man had me writing his MySpace messages
Man was all nervous and shit
Then later on, man done a diss
How’s man doing a whole dub for Shivs?
Calling her a hoe when you wifey’d
Don’t lie, you wouldn’t have done it otherwise G, yeah
Feelings, blatantly wifey
Man’s really getting a kick out of calling her a sket
I was like hold on a sec
Doesn’t that mean you just wifey’d a sket?
Which one you gonna wifey next?
I ain’t even mentioned your ex… yet
But I’ll tell you about that girl you’re with now
When it comes to the girls, bro, your life’s vex
'Cause you’ve gone and wifey’d Lusardi Rose
Name says it all 'cause everyone knows
She was beating man that you might call bro
Your closers are thinking «Woah, this is peak»
Her Snapchat’s got too many streaks
Brudda, this ting’s run through HeavyTrackerz' studio
Way more than me
Left with no tunes, no singing
No mix downs, just beats, no riddims
Innocent, pssh, who the hell is she kidding?
Did man really think that I wouldn’t spin him?
Your Fire in the Booth had me grinning
Fuck Minarmy, I’ll spin armies in eight bars
My Gs could be Muslim, when I tell 'em it’s beef, they break fast
This MAC-10 will turn a mansion into a graveyard
'Cause my man’s a prick
Diss my son and get blasted with what’s in the palm
Do not mention the Iron Man’s kid
I’ll address man here when I do it over my man’s wig
I don’t care who my man’s with
Deaf sound, my ting’s loud
When I give him this smoke, man better learn sign language
Rasta mode when I get nicked
Let my bredrins go, it’s all what I and I did
Snake in the grass, you’re fake
Everybody on my team eats when it’s my banquet
About school me, are you stupid?
They don’t wanna book me when I’m on my maths
shit
I’ve got a shot that will take away man’s eyesight
Plus a blade to divide mans ribs
Sounds like a seven a side, when you hit the news
They’ll be like «that was my man’s pitch»
Call man fat all you want, when I banged you in the face
Your left cheek said «My man’s quick!»
Leg said «Woah, did you see what my man did?»
When I fucked up my man’s shit
Come with them shit bars about fatso
The thing is when I was as skinny as you
I still weren’t getting smacked up by fat blokes
Trust me
Nobody’s G checking me bro and not you
I don’t care who’s around you, you’re talking about olders
You’re 29, shut your mout
How you got olders at 29?
Upset?
Aaw you and Blacks, bruv, 'llow it bruv
You diss a crew, prepare to beef a crew.
That’s what happens
You’re on your Snapchat and your Twitter talking about ah mans doing all this
'cause mans hating on you
Mans ne- why would man hate on you?
My career compared to yours is mad
Your peak is pop
I’ve been doing grime
There’s bare stuff I still ain’t said you’ve been doing
This is why this has happened, I smacked you up
'Cause you’re a violater, you are a pagan
And now you wanna do lyrics but in your lyrics you’re now talking bout road
Make up your mind
Check my dub compared to your dub bro
I’m stating nothing but facts and violations of how much you are a pagan
All you’re doing is talking about what you think you would do to me and wanna
do to me and rumours that ain’t true, bro
It’s air
I’m stating real life facts, that people around you know and will back up
And will actually say «Nah, but Dot you did that» «Nah but he’s got a point»
That’s why you ain’t winning this
'Llow it