Lyrics South London - Wiley

South London

Yo, 24s
Faultsz is on this ting 24s
I’m a big man, but I’m not 24s
Go to the booth, spit some 24s
Then it’s back to the road, shot them 20 scores
They called me like, «Faultsz, have you got any draws?»
Violate me, kickin' off any jaws
Come to your yard, kicking off any doors
And I don’t care if your house is big
Run up in your yard, don’t care how many floors
When I say I’m gonna come with a broom
No, I don’t do any chores
Man wanna steal my cool like Kors
Man get clapped like round of applause
Like YouTube, put your life on pause
Like YouTube, put your life on pause
Yes
Clay’s all over the ting like frosting
Them man come with the cheese like Hopsin
Then don’t climb no ranks, just flop
When we come thru', no game, everyting shelly
Them man there watch too much telly
Don’t wanna hear no chat about bad inna dis
When I flame on, dem are not ready
Stand up, on point, don’t fear many
Muay Thai bad breed, know that already
Still man walk with death in my backpack
Let a man know he can hold that calm
Let a man know he can hold one quick
Get a swift one, now he ain’t breathing correct, see
Man like Clay don’t easily fret cah
Might get one in your neckback, yes
What is it?
Pricks
I’m at your chest like Jamaican vicks
Rolling with Clayface, that’s Batman, Superman shit
Yeah, get out my cape and shit
Don’t make man start saving shit
They said grime was dead
But how can it be when I’m on the road like the pavement is?
And I’m evil but not like Satan is
Too many man on the slavery ship
Too many man on a paigon tip
Don’t let me get on my Tales of Crypt
Mandem call that the golden grip
I’ll compress an MC to a folder ZIP
Man don’t care 'bout no blue tick
Man might roll up nice and slick and
If I roll with the ting in my palm
I’ll have a big man all reciting psalms
Thought I was gone, but I’m back, wagwan?
I’ll still spin a wig on a set and get dark
Swing a man, swing a man, ain’t no park
Turn a man spliff, you will get sparked
Still out here with the rambz in the car
But don’t think that we ain’t got sticks that get barked like
You already know Blessed is a gen
Way back when I was in the class with the pen
Them days I was in the park with a benz
Nowadays, I need a place to park up a Z
Oh yes, when I spit on a riddim, they get left
Who is it?
Who is it?
Sounds of the Blessed
From 010, man have been surpassing levs
I’ve been done laps, I deserve my respect
Yeah, you pussy, chat about bro, that’s wah?
Go back yard
It won’t be dubs, it’ll be slugs
Topping up heat with no gas card
Dunno why man’ll try, man’ll get dark
Get these pussyhole soundboy, me nuh linger
A&E, wanna get your top pick?
Only time that your name’s ever in charts
Long
Chat pon a song but rhyme when it’s on
Man can’t ever try gas what I’m on
Your gyal’s pum pum, that’s what I’m on
Give a single mum back wap what I’m on
Slap and I’m gone
Fuck grime and everyone in it
I’m with it til man can’t gas what I’m on
If you’re an MC, blud, you can get it
Forget all the preaching, fuck all the breading
It’s a lyrics for lyrics, calm, yeah I said it
Man are big lion, but some MCs are like ferrets
Generic, bait as you like
They ain’t gotta be real, they can be fake as you like
Got the venom in my bars like a snake when it bites
If I end up at your girl’s, then I’m staying for the night
I’m a stop-out
Put me in the ring, it’s a third round knockout
Could been the first, but Eddie said rock out
Gotta give the fans what they want, don’t cop out
The work’s done when a man drops and I clock out
Put me in a hole, but I got out
Man don’t know about being in a shootout
Gotta drive home with the windows shot out
Got bare grime for the fans but it’s not out