[Intro]

Hold tight Rapid on production

Certi

Man like

Yeah

[Verse]

Okay so this guy thinks he's bad cause he went jail and he's got something to prove

Going to jail don't make you bad, you claff, it means you got caught on a move

I got so many MCs trying to diss me, I don't know what to do

Fuck that, grab the pen, clap it like leng

Bugzy I'm starting with you like, go on then

Turn into the devil, man

I grew up on Skeppy, not Devilman

But wait there, where's Devilman?

Get the picture, hold the scripture

Think next time, don't diss the kid

The evil ting you can miss me with

I'll dip your mixtape in holy water

Take it out and then frisbee it

Prick, straight like that, nigga

Bad with a pen, I'm that nigga

Take a peep up in Tinie's arse

You might find Cameo and Saskilla

Why you bredding man that don't bring you?

You wanna mind what you get yourself into

About "Oopsy Daisy", ya dun know

Give me the microphone, I'll still spin you

I can't stop now that I've started

Call my name out, hold a blasting

I still cut through slim and classy

None of my tings want Big ol' Narstie, idiot

Don't chat what you don't know, B

No neck, looking all obese

Chatting shit, about my fans are yours

Shut up, go fry in your own grease

And that's four man down in 32

Any other opportunist can join the queue

See, I know these man know my bars,

You had to reach for me so I could hear of you

About fuck having As and Bs or something

Man sound like they can't read or something

That's why you're stuck on this road ting

Cuh in music you ain't achieving nothing

Don't tell me nothing about grime like it started in your city

Diss me and that's your pity

I get Ps for a walk through in your city, oh Chippy

Bare little pricks on a cactus one,

This bar here is a casket one

I made more from pop than you do from a box

And your chick still wines to my bashment ones

On a Raskit one

Don't know what they told you but I'm not a mook

Don't know what they told you but I ain't shook,

Don't know what they told you but you ain't good

Any halfway crook

You're a goon? So what

I'm no goon, so what?

You shot a box, so what?

Designer clothes, so what?

You're so lost, that shit don't make you hot

Most my niggas all sell drugs

I've got family in jail too

But none of my niggas do fuckries

To blab about it on YouTube

And I'm still the voice of the people, bro

And you ain't got five songs people know

Try and knock my hustle, I'll be knocking yours

Still lethal with it, you should leave it, yo,

BecauseI know you man just might run out of bars

Chip can't run out of bars

I know you man just might run out of bars

Chip can't run out of bars

I know you man just might run out of bars

Chip can't run out of bars

I know you man just might run out of bars

Chip can't run out of bars

[Outro]

Yeah, you get me?

Oi, trust me

I can take opinions, I just don't like lies

Big Narstie

DTI was never ever the first grime tune ever made

It might've been the first grime tune made on the label you was on

But don't tell lies in the situation to make it benefit you

That's dead

That's a fry in your own grease ting, trust me

And everyone can MC

I don't mind

I can too

But trust me, no one's making an example out of me

Believe