Lyrics Eskimo Dance - Wiley

Eskimo Dance

Central Line!
Man try a ting, Central Line!
Boy try a ting, Central Line!
No long ting on the Central!
Fucked in the head-a-leng
If I’m bored-a-leng
I might walk down the road-a-leng
Eat anyone-a-leng, pon dem a-leng
And then duckle
Nine!
Manna lick two inna your chest
Put two inna your spine
Fuck round with K, your life is on the line
Well, you don’t wanna war with K9
Nine!
Manna lick two inna your chest
Put two inna your spine
Fuck round with K, your life is on the line
Well, you don’t wanna war with K9−9
Yo, one of dem, one of dem
C-A-P-O, yeah, one of dem, one of dem
Come out the way, yeah, one of dem, one of dem
Manna get liff, yeah, one of dem, one of dem
Bun down rave, yeah, one of dem, one of dem
Pricks in the grime scene, yeah, one of dem, one of dem
Can’t take Capo for one of dem, one of dem
Mandem load at one of dem, yo
Ey, yo, love grime (Hey!)
Run man a riddim, I’ll torch it (Hey!)
Dark like we’re living in sunshine (Hey!)
Slap 'way another exclusive (Hey!)
One line, make ya head lumpy
I give dem eight bar, gyaldem haffi start moving
Wah dem ah deal wid?
(Level)
Cah you know my ting already
I’m like, «Wow!
Who’s that rass!»
Fuck up the rave like CS gas
Murkle man, kill off a fass
Worship me like Sunday mass
And again, «Wow!
Who’s that rass!»
Fuck up the rave like CS gas
Murkle man gonna kill off a fass
And man worship me like Sunday mass
Bang!
Couldn’t be a stupid man
Bang!
Better know I’m a money man
Bang!
Can’t chat shit to me, man
Bang!
Cah man are real big mic man so
Bang!
Wiley’s a London man
Bang!
Gyaldem know I’m the man
Bang!
Know that I’m old school man
Yes, who’s hot on microphone stand?
Manna said lie dem a tell, lie dem a tell
Man are gonna shell dem as well, shell dem as well
Put your food on the scale, food on the scale
Ayy, it’s not everyday trap on Snap
Manna said lie dem a tell, lie dem a tell
Man are gonna shell dem as well, shell dem as well
Put your food on the scale, food on the scale
Ayy, it’s not everyday trap on Snap
You wanna test?
It’s fine by me
New era, hit 'em with the new stylie
Ear’um scare 'em, wear and tear 'em
I got the flows that are too grimey
You wanna test?
It’s fine, fine
Hit 'em with the new era line, line
I’m cheeky like a rear end
Soon gonna explode like a mine
Young Raiden’s got a new ting called
No-no, remorse-morse
You got a new one but they won’t sing, that’s
No-no, remorse-morse (Wait)
I tell man straight up I’m the best, that’s
No-no, remorse-morse (Wait)
I say, «Wait» and they still say, «Yes», that’s
No-no, remorse-morse
Freeze, don’t make me squeeze
No it’s not Babylon, it’s Mr. Breeze
Breathe and you’ll catch my disease
If you don’t own a gas mask, better leave
Say please and I might be nice
Cold as ice, I drop bodies at a nice price
Say the word, spray these nerds
With verbs till their eyes are blurred
I don’t care, I don’t care
Take your shit, get out of here
Leave the seat, fuck it take the chair
Say you done this but who was there?
Who was near?
Temper’s short so watch your talk
My strikers shoot and when I pop the ball
From Roman Road down to Stroudley Walk
Drive big cars, man I hardly walk
Start mooting 'em up
What you doing there?
Start fucking them up
That boy there, start banging him
Chaps, chain, start jacking him
Draw for the gat, start gun bucking 'em up
Torture path leave some shattering
All his mandem come off the block
Jump fences, climb over walls
Start scattering
Grips!
Bang him!
You’re on the floor!
No movement, you’re on the floor!
Catch him at the back of the flats!
Grips!
Bang him!
You’re on the floor!
No movement, you’re on the floor!