Yeah
On your marks, you ain't ready for man
Yo
I said I'm sick with it, fucking rip it till the beats finished
I spit an image when I pay the mic a visit
Got an evil sort of spirit but I'm classy like a violinist
Even though the lyrics are explicit, fam, you need to get wid it
On your marks, I swear this is just the start
Right here and the finish line is so far apart
But I'm grinding like Tony
Tell him "Don't phone me", I can't class him as my homie
Put your trainers on, it's time to get the cake in don
When you hear the bang, set off the blocks and get the racing on
When I write a tune I hit the booth and get to lacing one
How many MC's are overtaking? (None)
Fuck it, pick the speed up, I might need to lift my knees up
Nah, I ain't from Peckham, but I'm tryna get my P's up
Tell a man to ease up when I spit I switch the greaze up
Or I might come with it cold and move my engineer to freeze up (Hahaha)
I just holla'd at WhYJay, told him I cooked up something fresh, he said "Why wait?"
Roll to the studes, I'll be there in a few I said when I drop this set man'll be like "Why Aitch?" (Why)
'Cause I'm in Manny's top 5 and there's no doubt about it
'Cause when I drop lines, I build a sound around it
Around guys that'll place the fist right where your mouth is
Yeah, I'm from north but I got dons located in the south bits
Sick with it, fucking rip it till the beats finished
I spit an image when I pay the mic a visit
Got an evil sort of spirit but I'm classy like a violinist
Even though the lyrics are explicit, fam, you need to get wid it
On your marks, I swear this is just the start
Right here and the finish line is so far apart
But I'm grinding like Tony
Tell him "Don't phone me", I can't class him as my homie
When I bring out a tune everyone gets so gassed
That they ain't even realised my work rates shit
I write bars when I want and take all the time I need
To be honest, I don't think I know what work rate is
But if I put my mind to it I could probably shine through it
When I'm feeling stressed, I play a beat and rhyme to it
You can send but why do it? 'Cause you know that I slew it
If there's a big brick wall in front of me, I'll fly through it
Like, uh, fam I need this I'm hungry for it
Man don't want a feature, don't want the white younger on it
Fuck 'em, YouTube I'm doing numbers on it
Beats so cold I need to put a fucking jumper on it
Tell 'em if they want it they can come and get it, standard
Come through with a mic in front of bare bystanders
I don't know what you're thinking don, your girl's got standards
Why d'you think that when you call the bitch she never answers?
I'm sick with it, fucking rip it till the beats finished
I spit an image when I pay the mic a visit
Got an evil sort of spirit but I'm classy like a violinist
Even though the lyrics are explicit, fam, you need to get wid it
On your marks, I swear this is just the start
Right here and the finish line is so far apart
But I'm grinding like Tony
Tell him "Don't phone me", I can't class him as my homie
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