| They don’t know
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| They don’t know
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| Get the mic out and I do it properly
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| Gloves on and I feel like I’m Rocky
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| Still be a boss, man, these man can’t boss me
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| Hate all around, they man can’t knock me
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| You man a joke, man, these man can’t mock me
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| Out in the road and I feel like a diva
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| Ratchet gyal can’t taste my cocky
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| Flows and bars, long hair and I’m cocky
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| Feel like Messi in the Champions League
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| Cah man’ll skip through and these man can’t stop me
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| Had fed on my case from years
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| I slowed down but they still wanna lock me
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| Baring my face on the YouTube page
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| I’m about in the day, but the fans still clock me
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| They wanna rate me, girls wanna date me
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| Cut through daily and I do this properly
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| I do a campaign, stick to champagne
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| I’m in the game now, so I do rampage
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| I don’t plan game, I’ve got a buff ting
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| Next to me like Emeli Sandé
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| Somethin' sweet like candy
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| I’ve got bars so I rap like Band-Aid
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| Give a pop a bad day
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| When I ski ‘round the corner with handbrake
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| In the party with burners
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| I just need some new trainers
|
| Bust a rhyme with that timin'
|
| Left her man, you can’t blame her
|
| On the zoot, I’m like Jagger
|
| Chuffin' down on that flamer
|
| On the dance, I make patterns
|
| Even if you’re not raver
|
| In the party with burners
|
| I just need some new trainers
|
| Bust a rhyme with that timin'
|
| Left her man, you can’t blame her
|
| On the zoot, I’m like Jagger
|
| Chuffin' down on that flamer
|
| On the dance, I make patterns
|
| Even if you’re not raver
|
| Out on the cub more time, just swaggin'
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| When I step on the mic, you know Britain got talent
|
| Bare thankful for the things that I’ve done
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| I ain’t gotta stress about the things that I haven’t
|
| Yeah, everything Chris like Tarrant
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| Two gold teeth when I smile, it’s apparent
|
| No, man can’t violate me
|
| When I slide, all the team get filled up like Sharon
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| Too many nights man grindin' for
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| They say the police hear all the music
|
| Paranoid, I can’t write this wrong
|
| Don’t know how to do it, I can’t right that wrong
|
| Live on the guard, no man here may reach it
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| Pain in the heart where I write this from
|
| Things in the ends are getting kinda bad
|
| Every single day is like a timing bomb
|
| Everything cray, man, sip too Ray
|
| Light and dark, when I’ve got to pay
|
| Man want a verse, then you’ve got to pay
|
| Smiling face, when I flex today
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| Man, I’ve got a stylie and I’ve got swag
|
| ‘Cause I have a dream, so I’m due to praise
|
| I can’t settle, man ain’t for the highest
|
| Look to the bar, it get too raised
|
| In the party with burners
|
| I just need some new trainers
|
| Bust a rhyme with that timin'
|
| Left her man, you can’t blame her
|
| On the zoot, I’m like Jagger
|
| Chuffin' down on that flamer
|
| On the dance, I make patterns
|
| Even if you’re not raver
|
| In the party with burners
|
| I just need some new trainers
|
| Bust a rhyme with that timin'
|
| Left her man, you can’t blame her
|
| On the zoot, I’m like Jagger
|
| Chuffin' down on that flamer
|
| On the dance, I make patterns
|
| Even if you’re not raver |