| Madness
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| From a boy, been chased by badness (mad)
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| I was like rah, nah, nah
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| Suck your mum like your dad (your dad)
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| Back in the day when I jumped cab (skrr)
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| I got blacklisted, couldn’t get one from my gaff (from my home, hey)
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| But it’s calm, it’s cool, it’s cold, it’s nice (nice, nice, nice, nice)
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| When it snows I’m ghost, cause I’m dressed in white (ice)
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| Roll round my ends screaming «North Nights!» |
| (double N, double N!)
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| Roll round my ends and they know slowthai
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| Slay
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| Every one knows about slay
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| When I roll in, everyone goes: «I know him»
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| Just cause he know my name
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| Bait
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| When I draw my Beyblade
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| It’s a twister, make you turn in your grave like a Rizla
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| Screw your face (slay)
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| Pain
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| Get jooked, complain of belly ache
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| No space, no caps, no one can imitate
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| No hoods, no hats, like who you booking mate?
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| Strange
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| Situations elevate
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| Breath stinks straight, in need of Colgate
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| Cah only get one life, no simulator
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| In the cold Northants gets tragic (tragic)
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| Nights in watching Cash In The Attic (ah!)
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| Smell the tree like cash in the attic (brrt, brrt)
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| Hate the wet weed but I just bag it
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| Theresa May wanna be like Branson
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| Making P from airplane traffic
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| Theresa May wanna be like Branson
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| Making P from airplane traffic
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| In the cold Northants gets tragic
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| Nights in watching Cash In The Attic
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| Smell the tree like cash in the attic
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| Hate the wet weed but I just bag it
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| Theresa May wanna be like Branson
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| Making P from airplane traffic
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| Theresa May wanna be like Branson
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| Making P from airplane traffic
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| Wouldn’t throw my shadow
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| Mewtwo, you man move like Spearow
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| Tunnel vision and this tunnel too narrow
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| Want beef but I’m moving cattle
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| Woah
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| Want war jump out the Bora
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| With an arrow, cross bow and a borer
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| I write novels like man was an author
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| And I pray this year is a scorcher
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| Woah
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| Pray this summer is a heater
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| Kick ball, school man like it’s FIFA
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| I’m in Thailand, bun Ibiza
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| Wiseman with a spliff Ribena
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| Woah
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| Slow it down the slow motion
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| Laugh at my pain I ain’t joking
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| Blood from a stone, hands open
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| Blood on my hands for my bloods that are broken
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| Head too big, it’s swollen
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| Hot in the bits like Moulton
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| Negative life, stop moaning
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| Too many things I hold in
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| I ain’t learnt till my legs start floating
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| Disconnect everyone I don’t like, Don Pérignon hype
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| Catch me in the club, I be selling Snow White
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| Impose yourself, you might get a goodbye
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| Pressurise me and get something in your eye
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| From a yout, the boy has been a savage
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| Rudeboy deal with the matter
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| Different planet like I came from Namek
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| My life they can’t understand it
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| From a yout, the boy has been a savage
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| Rudeboy deal with the matter
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| Different planet like I came from Namek
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| My life they can’t understand it, no |