| Bruv, I didn’t look at it this way before
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| But as I approach my birthday
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| All you man are my youngers
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| You man are my youngers, bruv
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| If you can’t do 10K first week
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| Then I don’t wanna hear no chat about numbers
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| You man are my youngers
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| All blacked out like grungers
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| Tens and twenties and hundreds
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| Tens and twenties and thousands
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| I can’t never just 'llow dem (No)
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| On Mount Everest shoutin' (I)
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| Soon go back to the mountains
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| Third album, nigga I bless the beat with smoke
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| And my day one bros they kept me close
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| Then I sip my Tetley, take a toke
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| They’re tryna get me on the ropes
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| Ay, bro got the speshy in his coat
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| So please man, let’s just be adults
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| And don’t be flexin' in my boat
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| Nigga, you can’t test me, I’m the G.O.A.T
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| Rolex collection’s lookin' dope
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| I got the Pepsi and the Hulk
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| And I ain’t flexin' on you niggas
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| Cah I’ll still be sexy if I’m broke
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| Wait there and I was made to win like I’m designed to blow
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| We’re doin' major things, but it’s a minor though
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| I used to pay for things but that was time ago
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| And now I hit you niggas with the Wiley flow, it’s like
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| Bad 'em up, bad 'em up, bad 'em up once
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| Never could you take me for a dunce
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| Been on the scene for a hundred months
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| All I met is bare cunts
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| Take man for lunch
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| Eediot youts get punched
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| Pick one boy from your bunch
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| Tell man «Jump»
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| Oh what, you didn’t wanna jump? |
| Well
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| Oh, well look now you’re slumped
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| Lil' nigga I swerve (Lil' nigga I swerve)
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| Get out my lane (Get out my lane)
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| North and East and West are hot but the South’s on flames
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| This year I’ma be a household name
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| I grew up in a house of pain
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| I don’t do it for the clout or fame
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| All the real niggas gonna' vouch on my name
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| All the real niggas gonna' vouch on my (Vouch on my, woo, vouch on my,
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| vouch on my)
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| Yeah (Yeah, yeah)
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| Yeah (Yeah, yeah)
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| If you ain’t got more than five top 10s
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| Then I don’t wanna hear no chat about chartin'
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| You man are just startin'
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| Comin' like a young Chris Martin
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| Start swingin' with my arms like Carlton
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| Start swingin' with my arms like Anthony
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| All my niggas been charged, don’t amp me
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| Have your Mrs. in her bra and panty
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| If you see me in the dance, I’m anti, quite frankly
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| Heavyweight champion of the world
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| They wanna war me for my belt
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| If you ever hear Stormzy caught an L
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| Know I stood tall before I fell
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| There’s a couple birthdays comin' up
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| So I took like a quarter from the shelf
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| Spent like a 100 on my mum then about 140 on myself
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| The Mille, I sport it like Pharrell
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| But I got the Nautilus as well
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| All of the stories that I’ve lived, my nigga
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| These are the stories that I tell
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| Wait there and I was made to win like I’m designed to blow
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| We’re doin' major things, but it’s a minor though
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| I used to pay for things but that was time ago
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| And now I hit you niggas with the Wiley flow, it’s like
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| Run up on them man laughing, fuck it
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| You got a chain but you tuck it, fuck it
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| Man throw dirt on my name, blud, fuck it
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| Slew anybody in the family, fuck it
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| Run up on them man laughing, fuck it
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| You got a chain but you tuck it, fuck it
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| Man throw dirt on my name, blud, fuck it
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| Slew anybody in the family, iyt, iyt
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| Last three tunes kinda prove that I did this
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| Mind what you say, I put a yout on my shit list
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| Must be the same old yout in the dinner hall
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| Primary, sippin' on my juice with my biscuits
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| I’m from a place where we move to da witness
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| Stare in your face, tell 'em «Business is business»
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| Came for the fame but she stayed for the litness
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| Ask your new girl, she loves Mr. Skeng
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| You’ll never ever see me with guys known for verbals
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| My bruddas pull up and sky no rehearsals
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| Don’t switch sides, there’s no role reversals
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| How’s the best spitter in Grime so commercial?
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| Wait, nobody said you’re good, dun your chat
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| Your girl take the wood, lumberjack
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| Hit 'em with a lighter flex, humble brag
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| I can’t drop the bag, I’m the bag
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| Yeah
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| Yeah
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| If you ain’t got no platinum plaques
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| Then I don’t wanna hear no chat about
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| Nah I’m jokin' man |