Lyrics Play Your Corner - WEN, Riko

Play Your Corner

Original don dada
That’s why unnu haffi chat to me proper
Rise up mi gun, watch everything start scatter
Till the gun man ah buss, it goes a rat-a an' tatta', yeah
Dem haffi chat to me decent
Cah mi will murder boy without reason
Bwoy get duppy like him commit treason
And mi nuh care which bloodclart season
A coulda winter
Mi mek soundboy run like a sprinter
Mi will get bad like an old school ninja
Gunshot red up your head like you ah ginger
Original bad boy inna di area
Shot bite bwoy skin like malaria
Dem ah gwan like dem ah gangster
When I come around, di grime scene get scarier
Ayy bwoy, you a snitch, informer, you’re a grass
That’s why you will get a shot inna your arse
That’s why we nuh trust them bloodclart boy
Any time of the day, much less after dark
Inna war, we will back up mi gun dem calm
Same time, mi will back up mi gun dem fast
We see Babylon and we don’t talk
You see Babylon and you start talk
You start sing, you start tell Babylon everything
Tell Babylon how much coke mi ah shot
Tell Babylon how much gun mi ah bring
How mi ah run up in a soundclash with twenty man
And how mi ah kill everything
Bwoy life up when the spinner start spin
And your neck get bruk when di sinner start sin
Hol' on a-yout
Hol' on a-man
Rise up mi hand from dem
Hol' on a-yout
Hol' on a-man
Draw for mi gun when mi
You know that was bang out of order
Crossed the line, now you’ve crossed the border
You just turned the wrong corner
You could have had Wen play your corner
Look, I’m going to shower this ting down
I’ve got a clip for a coward that’s in town
You better get down, I got a stick
And I come here to spit rounds
You wanna come around here with dem likkle bars
And some likkle shit sound?
You better know man ah roll with the big sound
And my gun’s got the largest teeth
Rudeboy, you can call it a big hound
Anyting try test, mi will lick down
One bar, everyting get spin round
Tell a dibby MC «sit down»
Man come try ring off the big pound
I mean trey pound
I squeeze off, I’ll make ten niggas lay down
Yeah, and they’re going to stay down
I’m a big man who they can’t play round
They can’t fuck round, when I touch down
Everything dead with the lead, mi ah run down
Shot inna head, dem dead by sundown
'Cause I’m a real gun man, you’re a gun clown
I leave everybody dead with one round, one clip
Can’t come tell me nuttin' 'bout the gun 'ting, I does this
In beef, pack more than one clip
And I’m on a soundclash ting 'cause I run this
And I got lyrics and shells in abundance
I run the circumference
Let me break that down for you dunces
Basically I’m no clown, I’m a dumpers
I put holes and rounds inna jumpers
And I’m on point like a rasclart compass
And I don’t believe a word you say
'Cause I know that you man are fronters
Hol' on a-yout
Hol' on a-man
Rise up mi hand from dem
Hol' on a-yout
Hol' on a-man
Draw for mi gun when mi
Hol' on a-yout
Hol' on a-man
If a bwoy wan' disrespeck di programme
Hol' on a-yout
Hol' on a-man
You know that was bang out of order
Crossed the line, now you’ve crossed the border
You just turned the wrong corner
You could have had Wen play your corner