Don’t… don’t chat to me, still
Don’t chat to me Poomplex
Derkhead
Don’t chat to me
I’ve got people standing, staring, when I spit and go
I’m a drive-by MC, spit on the low
I have learnt my lesson, slip on road, never
But I’m not essing
You know Jme is the best in switching my flow
Writing, never resting, spit on my own
Practice makes the best MC
And you know perfect is a blessing
I’ve got girls flicking themselves off like a fuse box switch
And I’ve got sales of Boy Better Know mixtape
On the shelves of HMV, which everybody’s heard of Nowadays road mentality’s hot like lava
It’s a big joke so I rock a balaclava
And a big coat to stop the palava
On the back roads
Mess with me and I’ll mess with your head like JavaScript
I’ll mash up your head like the barber slipped in the shop
And left you with scars and slits and cuts
Are you nuts?
I’ve got my flow on lock like a phone keypad
And it’s true that a lot of the flows you have have been used
So stop with your phony chats and slews
I’m big
You can tell by the bars I strap and chat
Other MCs, put down the straps and chat some sense, please
Allow the straps and your chats, we’re meant to be artists
Ps coming in from left, right and centre
I’ve got bookings from now till next winter
I’m looking to turn our sets into
Stage shows and concerts
Rudeboy, shut your mout
Poomplex
Push, push, push, but you can’t carry weight
I carry the whole estate through the sleet and the rain
It’s bait, can’t take when a wasteman hates
And thinks that he’s a spitter but the hood don’t rate him
At the start, I had turntables and crates and dubplates
Mixing with my mates, I’m real
Never see me rolling round with the fakes
Getting chased by the jakes in whips that are bait, no Grime, yeah, the genre’s new
Some musicians just ain’t got a clue
Calling them a musician is an exaggeration
If you listen, you will agree with me too
In time, we’ll see who’s left
Real music man make tunes that are effed
The other few guys from the scene know
They should have used their time more wisely instead
Like pizza delivery, riding a ped
At least you’d be making Ps instead of Coming radio with a stiff face
Acting like you don’t mind being dead
Now, radio’s a place where everybody comes
To prove that they don’t fear anybody
That’s pointless, the whole point of being an artist is music
I’m not here to get bodied
Don’t… don’t chat to me, still
Don’t chat to me Poomplex
Derkhead
Don’t chat to me