Released on March 10, 2008

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[Intro: Ghetts]

G-H

Yazmin

Wretch 32

I breathe heavy

Open your eyes, man


[Verse 1: Ghetts]

Take a journey with me

Pretend I'm the tour guide

No MAC, just the .45

Welcome to London

Where some talk the talk

But me, I walk the walk

And you can tell from my bunions

Niggas get set up and held for a lump sum

They bringing drama to your mum’s drum

Fling on your armour when they come, son

Fill 'em up with dum dums

Nowadays, the young ones are worse than the olders are

They'll burst just to gloat and laugh

Don’t be so surprised

Because I'm around with no disguise

I know you noticed I socialise

With niggas that come from broken homes

And we don't vote

'Cause even if we did, we wouldn't see no hope

So now I'm Nino with a kilo

Not giving a fuck if fiends overdose

I keep most my notes

When niggas won't look, I'm taking precautions

He’ll get run up on eight in the morning

There’s no escaping extortion

So a flame is important

Even if you ain't making a fortune

Niggas want a portion

But taking my money is something like taking an organ


[Chorus: Yazmin]

This is the real life, we call it street life

So much pain, this world’s so cold

This life's deserted, the guns and violence

There's so many fiends out on the road

Young people dying, mothers crying

They're still tryna fight it, hard to stray

Some people have nothing

They’re living life lonely

Sleeping out on the streets at night


[Verse 2: Wretch 32]

Listen, I'm from the roads where there's no fear

You'll get your face lift on your own stairs

The lift's out of order, so, they gotta pass the body

Stinking out half the lobby

And if my prints are on the bricks

Then there'll be charges on me

Someone's gotta talk

The sergeant's marching, looking answers

Questioning, the question is

Who did it?

Matter of fact, who didn't?

Catch .22s like two digits

Surrounding my ends

And it's drowning my head like a huge fitted

But I've gotta move with it

Becah' it's kill or be killed

Matter of fact, put a stick in your wheel

Becah' a gun war can turn into your son's war

Surname associated

And they'll be bursting the chrome at faces

But I ain't 'fraid of nuttin'

Darg, I can work, you were made redundant

I move food, I can shave an onion

I'm smooth too, 'cah I can date your loved one

Ha, yeah, so don't get it twisted

If you hear that I made a lump sum


[Chorus: Yazmin]

This is the real life, we call it street life

So much pain, this world's so cold

This life's deserted, the guns and violence

There's so many fiends out on the road

Young people dying, mothers crying

They're still tryna fight it, hard to stray

Some people have nothing

They're living life lonely

Sleeping out on the streets at night


[Verse 3: Ghetts]

If your home

Is in a war zone where laws are broke

Where rich kids make a mockery of poor adults

Lord knows, I've bored foes

Don't ever think you're safe because your doors are closed

And with no qualifications, ha

The only way to go legit is spit or score goals

And you can ask Lew

Producing beats, reducing sleep, are you a star, too?

You gotta do at least a tune a week

Make use of fast food

That's the food we eat, it's food at least

I stack Ps and treat Nandos like McD's

That's everyday, it's that peak

Then it's back to the back streets

Where the cats meet

Heroin and crack fiends

That keen that I could give a one of each in return for a flat screen

That's just the perks of my job

I work with Charlie and I'm working with Bob

It's 2007, I'm counting my weapons

I'm raising my papers, so, my house be in Devon

Out by eleven

Being a fiend, it's in my genes

Like it's found in my denim

I'm around with them villains

From Canning Town to Peckham

Take a motherfucking look

I'm in a motherfucking hood

And the life I live has even got my mother touching wood

Nutters love to bust a nug

Every second, feds cuff another crook

It's regular around here

So many moves are made

Even though most moves are flames

Yeah, I still move the 'caine

Wishing I could move away


[Chorus: Yazmin]

This is the real life, we call it street life

So much pain, this world's so cold

This life's deserted, the guns and violence

There's so many fiends out on the road

Young people dying, mothers crying

They're still tryna fight it, hard to stray

Some people have nothing

They're living life lonely

Sleeping out on the streets at night