| Everyday, bro, we’ve gotta stay battling
|
| Gotta stay fighting, gotta stay striving
|
| Gotta stay dreaming, gotta stay believing
|
| Gotta stay scheming
|
| I broke down a few more barricades
|
| Got me a few more accolades
|
| Used to look forward to the weekend
|
| Now every day’s like Saturday
|
| Surrounded by stars
|
| Come chill with the constellation
|
| Then she asked me what my real name was
|
| And killed the conversation
|
| Sometimes I’ve gotta scratch my head
|
| Like big man ting on a level
|
| Only my mum and dad call me Junior
|
| What makes you so special?
|
| No Rolex timepiece
|
| No Hublot kettle
|
| But still I know when it’s time to jump in the car
|
| Put the foot to the pedal like
|
| Yeah, I don’t care about VIP
|
| I’ve got very important places to be
|
| While I’m asleep, I’m making a beat
|
| Girls in the house getting naked for me
|
| What I’m tryna say is basically
|
| Never get a joke man mistaken for me
|
| Corn on the curb if a man diss me
|
| My niggas got the biscuits in T
|
| Santa Claus used to miss my house
|
| So I decorated my own Christmas tree
|
| Ring man’s phone if he think’s it’s beef
|
| What do you mean, «who is this, blud?"It's me
|
| My niggas been on crime
|
| Don’t get it twisted cause I don’t beef online
|
| My niggas violent, my niggas loopy
|
| Something you ain’t seen on Vine
|
| I don’t want a like, I don’t want a follow
|
| Diss me today, link me tomorrow
|
| I’ve got goons that can’t leave the country
|
| Above the law, under obbo
|
| I know pain, I know sorrow
|
| I know empty, I know hollow
|
| I just flew my Gs out to Amsterdam
|
| And I told them «thank me tomorrow»
|
| Cuh man have been in the kitchen
|
| Experimenting with the whipping
|
| And you see, the road ting and the music ain’t mixing
|
| Would’ve thought man was playing baseball
|
| Way man are outside pitching
|
| Never been a punk, never been a victim
|
| Wanna hate on me? |
| Wanna hate on Storm?
|
| Fuck that, let the kings in
|
| I start ringing MCs
|
| Go radio, I start swinging MCs
|
| I was in the trenches, everyday grinding
|
| You couldn’t say a man weren’t bringing MCs
|
| I will pick up the phone, start ringing MCs
|
| Bars inna my touch, bringing MCs
|
| They know I’ve got Skeppy on my team
|
| We were on road, living it, skilling MCs
|
| Producers, plus we are living MCs
|
| Bare vibes we have given MCs
|
| I was there back in the day when it was garage
|
| And them man said they wanna get rid of MCs
|
| But them man couldn’t get rid of MCs
|
| Cause since then, we’ve become bigger MCs
|
| Some MC debts
|
| Skibadee, Baseman and Trigga MC
|
| Yeah, us man are blazing powers
|
| Them man are blazing Benson
|
| My bredrin said it’s his birthday
|
| Took him onstage with Drake and Section
|
| Hate my niggas cause every day, it’s another great invention
|
| Wanna talk about loot? |
| Then I bring the loot out
|
| Talk about shootout? |
| Better be a shootout like a western
|
| Cause I don’t fear no man
|
| Think you’re a killer but your name ain’t Cam
|
| Oi, pussyhole, don’t look in my span
|
| Cause you might get shot on the road like 28 gram
|
| And you know who I am
|
| Shower man down like Fireman Sam
|
| Drive to your ends on a two-year ban
|
| With Solo in the transit van
|
| Nah, you can’t diss my mum
|
| Shots start fly out and man get bun
|
| Fling on my black garments and dun
|
| Dry skin between my index finger and thumb
|
| I hate man like a nun
|
| That’s why I wanna buy a haunted gun
|
| Can’t get killed before I get to see my son
|
| Them tings can’t run
|
| They got me thirsty for blood again
|
| They got me talking crud again
|
| They got-
|
| Yo, fam
|
| Yo, Chip
|
| Talk to me, man
|
| Where are you, though? |
| Who are you with?
|
| I’m on my Js, blud
|
| Sound, man. |
| This ting has got me, blud, I’m not gonna lie, fam. |
| I’m not gonna
|
| front, fam. |
| Mad pressures from every angle, fam
|
| Yeah?
|
| It’s come like I’m too ambitious to be with the mandem on the road but, I’m…
|
| like… I can’t be up there with them people either… you know what I’m
|
| saying? |
| I’m too black to be up there, you see what I’m saying, fam?
|
| I don’t know, I feel like… I feel like I’m in limbo, Chippy. |
| I feel like I’m
|
| in limbo, fam
|
| Fam, you’re going mad, fam. |
| I’ve been, I’ve been waiting to speak to you, fam.
|
| You’re going way too mad, fam. |
| Like what the fuck did you mean like you don’t
|
| know why I mentioned your name, fam? |
| Like North London, fam. |
| You got the call |
| from God to do something deeper, bro. |
| Like, go got the call to go and make
|
| everyone look at everything else that is happening over here, fam. |
| You get me?
|
| That’s a deeper calling, bro. |
| Like them callings there, it’s not everyone’s
|
| phone that gets that ring ring there, you see what I’m saying, fam?
|
| Like super powers fam, super charged, bro
|
| I hear that, fam
|
| Like just being you alone, fam, niggas getting to watch. |
| You’re doing what
|
| you’re supposed to do, bro. |
| Cuh we ain’t seen nuttin' like this happen before.
|
| Who’s seen the country flip on its head like this, fam? |
| These youts don’t know
|
| what’s going on, fam. |
| They ain’t got a fucking clue, fam. |
| Independent to the T,
|
| fam. |
| Love, brudda, man. |
| I needed that powers. |
| Power up fam, I don’t even like
|
| hearing you sound like this, blud. |
| I needed them. |
| The mission’s deeper right
|
| now. |
| Love, brudda. |
| Mad. |
| Alright, fam, I’m gonna shout you, man. |
| What you saying
|
| though, everything good?
|
| Blud, love you bro, man, just do what you gotta do. |
| Man’s doing what I gotta do,
|
| fam. |
| You already know, bro. |
| Powers. |
| Powers |