Lyrics:
What it is shawty? Can I roll good?
See you impressed by the game like ya s'pose to
You see rap stars with cars and black cards
All you get is convos,
commando gear -- black robes and a red sash
around his head -- is standing by a plan on the wall. He is addressing an
audience of about eight MASKED
down yet
It all comes back to me
When I turn that horse's key
I'm 17 or 23
Or bringing home my first baby
Like Dad did when the '65 was three
albino
You fucked little kids pedo Michael
40 years old, 10 years old
Disowned by his own family for
Touching 3 year old
Boys robbed McCartney of his
from them counterfeit
That's three for a bag, P's in the bank
G's on the cap and keys for the Jag
Few boys graft hard, few boys sell nosey
now who the hell is this
E-mailing me at 11:26, tellin' me that she 36-26,
Plus double D you know how girls on black planet be when they get bubble E
Wiley
Representing, ain't got the tee on
Today but you know it’s Boy Better know
Okay!
My name's Skepta, also known as H-A-Y
'Cause if I got P’s I'm
cold in norms
If you want a fist then throw me punch
I'm in the position I can make it run
Die by six, no it can't be done
I hope they connect
Black
on the keys
Your head’s on the floor
The blue eyed boy
Can’t feel anymore
You wake up again
A coffin on the moon
You wish that you could tell him
“I’ll see you
watering at 20 and I did it by my lonely now it’s really growing
I should make skin care by the way I’m glowin
I should author rap for dummies by the way
feet
And I hear he's on a new diet at watches what he eats
He's got his eyebrows plucked and his asshole bleached
Owns every single Ministry CD
too far
Just a little joke to show how homophobic you are
And who can blame ya
Boy Meets World
I'm trying to find a new Topanga
And bang her out,
Goodwill loves me Macklemore than you
I've got flat screen TVs, with skate videos on repeat
All the latest CDs, mp3s, and Beats by Dre
Thank you very
the ground
Lookin' like some noodles
How you gon' run up on me when I got the homies
Clutchin' on that 40 while ya by ya lonely
Grippin' on a semi same time ya
Ho ho ho come sit on my face
I'm mean lap and tell me what you want for Chrismas
ho ho.
[Menajahtwa]
I want a slay ride
a cd player
a fifty rum
???
what you want for Christmas
Ho ho.
I want a slay ride
A cd player
A fifty rum
She said slide down the chimney
In a pool of cum
A VCR
like I was still slangin crack
But thanks to the Lord, I ain't got a slang no more
Consumed by my music, hitting keys on the keyboard
Smoking weed
guessed it! God done over by customs, the pair of us, didn't we? So there we
are standing there, "Hello hello hello! What you been up to, you naughty boys
!
Wanna play with me like a new toy?
It's cool with me, I'm a rude boy
Influenced by Houston
So when I chop it up, you screwed boy
Think you fly, shoo boy
To say when this'll end
We're black and in Paris, it's 4 a.m &
Im sober, she wore a blouse made of yellow
She said, oh please hold the door sir
She had
tell me I can make it
To the top even by my lonely
Know the succas watching so
I got to stay low-key
As I look around
I see these niggas aint for me
Why
wouldn't listen
So now I'm on the road passing out my CD's
I been thinking so long that my thoughts turned to 3-D
Triple time that's a 3 piece, wit' some
black ladies see white boys and clench they purse?
What if Diallo Dege is shot, 41 times?
What if the kids was popular that went to Columbine?
What if
Boy, we about to fill they motherfucking head up with this ghetto dope
Time to break these hoes off somethin'
Got my niggas Bun B., Pimp see, I
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