Released on January 1, 2004

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[Skit/freestyle: Akala]

Akala means it can't be moved

Wise tug I stand firm like Muhammad or Malcolm

I won't budge, face it, this gyal naked or scrolls sacred

I'm the worst thing from England since the slave shit

Rappers still so real, it's time

Hit you so hard I separate your thoughts from your mind

Wizard of written kid, blizzards spittin' I'm so cold

Fassies get exposed by my snub-nosed flow

My 12-gauge frays at close range and make you levitate

Like David Blaine, it ain't no game

Bredrin if you real, roll with it

This is the movement, it's Akala blud and you can't move it


[Verse 1: Akala]

Just another strap burst, another black cursed, packed church

Another black man in a hearse before his 21st

Same story to tell all over the world

Crack sales, packed jails, sports, music on sale

Shoot 3 points or score goals

Just the slang's different, you'll relate to my flow

Hoes suck dick when your neck all froze

And you're known to move stone cold duppying foes

What you know, about single mums on the dole?

Had to hustle, raising 3 kids on their own

That's why I'm so grimy now, gotta give her the credit

She was always grinding, so for me it's genetic

No matter what, won't stop till my mum's living lavish

Shopping trips to Paris, till then, you faggots have had it

Talk a lot but you can't do shit to me

Shells among your iceberg will make you history

[Hook: Akala] x2

"There's a war going on outside no man is safe from" -


[Sample from Mobb Deep's Survival Of The Fittest]

You can't crumble or stumble, you gotta stay strong

Show these suckers on top getting preyed on

Concrete streets, the heat'll leave you laid on


[Verse 2: Akala]

It's the jungle where the prey turned killer

Streets is a gym where man work out there to improve their fitness

Bigger weight you push, the bigger you get

Not the size of your pecs, but your cheques and your reps

Niggas is partners too take turns for sex

One run his mouth the other do reps with his index

You talk real slick but don't really want shit

Man I stock more magazines than WHSmith

And I ain't glorifying nuttin', just reality

Make no man, mishandle my dough or my family

Shit'll get worse than prison for pedophiles and snitches

Cut you so wide you'll need a rope for your stitches

Teach one but I fear none, I ain't just spittin'

Mine or your mum's gonna cry then my eardrum's ringing

'Cause shit, my mum's already lost 4 infants

The 3 boys then only me, that's why I'm so militant


[Hook x2]

I'm only 19 but my mind is older

I'm Europe's youngest black company owner

[?] the style of wireless on this whole island

Shit's so rowdy, burst your eardrum when I'm miming

I walk jeans sagging, [?]

It's hard to believe my GCSEs improved the nation's average

And these dicks think they know me well

The only thing hotter than my flow is the shells

[?] receivers go missing

The way I [?] it can't be fixed by positions

Play your position, before I stop rapping start spitting

And you little bitches resting in ditches

No one too credible for attention to medical

Slugs encase your cerebral, make you a vegetable

Heat's unbearable, these streets are terrible

Kids are eating food even though it's inedible


[Hook x2]