| Haunting flows, strap bars late in the night
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| So far gone, not a pagan in sight
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| Send me the mic, I’ll bake anytime, anywhere
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| Now it’s that time of the year
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| I’ll start going H•A•M and you can’t bring pride anywhere
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| Send me the mic cuh you don’t wanna rally in here
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| Body man, make crews start shedding nuff family tears
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| Intro screaming all of your gangs
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| I ain’t ever seen you on no frontline
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| 28 gram this, 28 gram that
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| I ain’t ever seen you on no cunch line
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| Better leave with the mic, bare when I talk
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| I’ll violate man, don’t leave me the right
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| Make man freeze on the mic, murk man in threes on the mic
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| Cap Lee’s on the mic
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| I don’t believe them guys
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| They ain’t real, I can see it in their eyes
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| Ain’t got a mash and they don’t sell pies
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| But they jump on the track and they wanna tell lies
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| Putting on some badboy disguise
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| Mumzy cries when somebody dies
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| So don’t talk like you’re selling food
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| When you’re in a restaurant just serving fries
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| Man wanna talk like the baddest in the world
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| But they don’t know 'bout the baggies and the scales
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| My man said he was moving food
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| He was in Tesco stacking up the shelves
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| Fake pimpster, ain’t banging any girls
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| Shit CDs, tell me how many you sell
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| I put the lemon in the L, get high but I’m never gonna chill
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| Cause I could’ve been sitting in a cell
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| That could’ve been me
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| If the police had searched me properly
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| Real talk, fam, that would’ve been peak
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| Thank God I hid the food in my boxers
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| Boydem never found nuttin' on me
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| MCs lie they’re about that life
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| So I don’t wanna hear one of them speak
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| I don’t believe them guys
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| They ain’t real, I can see it in their eyes
|
| Ain’t got a mash and they don’t sell pies
|
| But they jump on the track and they wanna tell lies
|
| Putting on some badboy disguise
|
| Mumzy cries when somebody dies
|
| So don’t talk like you’re selling food
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| When you’re in a restaurant just serving fries |