Lyrics
Anyone that's dissed my mum, yeah
Suck your dead great gran through
Your dad's batty crease rudeboy
It's time to up the levels again
A new MC's born every weekend
If you're an MC, don't try and befriend me
'cause I will not holla back like Gwen
You'll get no air time like space
Frankly there's not enough space
There's already too many stars like space
I'm not having a bar like space
So shut your mouth, give me
Space, give me room
If you don't then you will
Be facing your doom
Lyrics are deeper than a bass on a tune with
Hidden messages like the face on the moon
My lyrics will chief up your rhymes
You just chat about beef all the time
Your content is weaker than mine
Your dry lyrics need some E45
Bare MCs just lie too much
If not, then they say, "Like" too much
Easy peasy similes used frequently really
Gets on my nerves
High like sky, big like Ben, air like pie
That's what you do all the
Time in your rhymes not like mine
When I come round it's metaphor time
I'm so deep, when I come around
Your ears pop when I spit lyrics
Your ears stop picking up the ambient
Sounds around 'cause I'm on top
You're so weak, when I come around
You best not
Spit no lyrics, go have a drink
Swag MCs, spitting with me
That ain't the lick
It's not a good career choice
My lyrics will diminish your voice
If this was your lyric
You'll say something like me being
Crap and your Rolls Royce
Not Jme, that's too predictable, blud
What would I rhyme with Royce?
I'll say something deep like
"When I go festivals
I don't pay the ticket kiosk"
My name's on the list, VIP wristband
Triple-A card hangin' from my neck
You're not a musician, put you in
A room with a computer
You'll just surf the net
Not me, I open Fruit
Loops, Cubase, Pro Tools, logic
Reason, Ableton Live, I don't give a
Shit, switch on the computer, make a hit
See Jme? He's in charge
I ain't never been stealing cars
I'm meetin' stars, my tunes will
Make your mouth water
Just like sweetie jars
I'm repeating bars, 'cause
That's me, individual
I didn't cheat in class
You lot are thicker than
Windscreen glass, like Kano
I got beats and bars
My album will soon be out
You can cop that straight off
The shelf like greeting cards
Want one's, two's and three's in the charts
When you're in HMV breezing past
My lyrics are serious, leaving
Scars, like Skepta, you'll hear me in cars
I'm not a cheat but I'm
Breezin' past, like a cheetah
You're a cow eatin' grass
You won't see me in a bait
Car chase, I'm on the grind
On a paper chase
Before all my skate park days
Before music made the 8 bar phrase
LISTENNN! Like Trimbal
While Jme's hitting the right cymbal
Riddim is cold like a winter day
Listen to the bass get syncopate
Trust, can't get rid of me since I
Learned how to export the MIDI sequence
Skepta and Jme are rough
Them lot got a loud bass drum
And a tough rim shot
Any wasteman with a PC can't
Step to Skepta or Jme
I don't care what you thought
Can't beat them at 140 BPM
Yo yo blud-blud don't
Get rude-rude-rude-rude boy-boy, warning
You you you know that
I don't normally slew-slew-slew
Me that'll be the end of you
All this bad boy talk is nothin'
Got a stiff face like you wanna say somethin'
Don't get rude, blud I said
Don't get rude! I will start upper cutting
Yo yo bredrin, fix your face-face-face-face
Facts-facts you can't spray-spray-spray
Jme blud
What did you say-say-ssssay that again that's
The end of your day
All this re-te-te is air
Think you'll scare me if you swear?
Don't get rude, blud I said, don't get rude
I will break your ear!
Serious, yeah, uppin' the levels
Yeah, producing the beats
Writing the lyrics
One take, Jme, serious, hold tight
All the waste MCs
All the people wasting their time
You're not a musician, stop
What you're doin', shut ya mout'
WRITERS
FRANCIS CORNWALL
PUBLISHERS
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave
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LyricIQ Analysis
Top Emotion
Enjoyment
Sentiment
Theme
Abuse and Violence
