[Intro: The Notorious B.I.G.]

One

One, two

Check me out right here, yo

[Verse 1: Lowkey]

You are not the grime scene saviour, you sly weak hater

A little pop tart that owes Wiley favours

And doesn't really understand these shystie majors

They sell your pop songs to these nice teenagers

And don't get me wrong you might be famous

But they buy green acres

You buy neat trainers (Nikes)

You were more real as an ID faker

Make enough love songs and you might see paper

When you see 1, the label see a hundred crispy bills

That is what happens when you sign 360 deals

Give this chump a little chance, punch you in his heart

Got signed for a chump then bumped for his advance

Getting hyped cos some 12 year olds felt your song

But what you gonna do when all the little girls are gone

You'll be as frail as the songs you got wealthy from

And be a tiny little dancer for Elton John

[Verse 2: Lowkey]

You ain't even worth the ink in my fingertips

Does this little midget really think he's a lyricist?

To drink from my flippin sink is a privilege

Copy Jay-Z and make your fingers a pyramid

Keep making soulless music your fans buy

But jam your hype and hang tight with your damp rhymes

Hearing you is sad like watching ants die

But people know the truth behind your hand signs

Am not telling anybody to get hostile

This is just a hobby I feel sorry for this lost child

Chipmunk, Chipmunk, Chipmunk, Chipmunk

Lyrical skill isn't measured by your income

They tell me leave the kid alone, he's faker than silicone

My lyrics expose reveal the soul of this Jigga clone

Little Jigga minnie me, didn't sleep just twitter beef

Still its peak for this little meek in his skinny jeans

Should I snap fingers, end all tweeting

Take off my slipper and give parental beatings

Sword razor tongue, means your days are done

This yute is big headed in more ways than one

You diss vex but you spit wet Little Princess

Sony is searching for the next bigheads to pick next

You're not hard, little pop tart, think you got bars

You might top charts but lyrically you flopped hard

Silly voice pretty boy that shaves his eyebrows

The grime scenes very own Amy wlWinehouse

Your loopy lately, could you be crazy

What kinda man calls a rap song "Oopsy Daisy"

I'm a real emcee they won't forget me

Fill up your bank account your soul is empty

If u getting vexed ask yourself what you represent

You can't get respect, you took a bite of the Devil's bread

And the money you made will mean nothing when you're dead

So think when you get that deep thought through your pregnant head

If yoy get depressed you can pay for next tattoos

Or phone up your mandem JLS to back you

Pick the wrong option, it's likely you got problems

You can't try me I'm not Wiley or Dot Rotten

Not the hardest emcee, far from the best rapper

Not in this scene but maybe on X-Factor

Hide inside your house cos we're sick of your wining mouth

Every sentence will slay the secrets under Simon Cowell

Stay calm fool when the napalm fools

All the youths on your ends call you Hey Arnold

Gutless diva with a tough demeanor

How does it feel to be the UK's Justin Bieber

If you're a lyricist stop coming with them poppy bars

Talk is cheap, you can't walk the street without your bodyguards

If money is nothing why is an issue why you rhyme

Money is nothing, can't take it with you when you die

Make another track that says how much cash you get

It can't buy you skill, credibility or happiness

[Outro]

I don't wanna see people talking about "Fuck Chipmunk" after this It's not about "Fuck Chipmunk", this is just a warning, yeah

If you keep acting like a boy

People are gonna keep treating you like a boy

If you act like a man, people will treat you like a man

Just because you got more money

And, you got a machine behind you

Doesn't make you a better lyricist than anyone

What makes you a better lyricist is lyrical skill

And right now you need to choose what you are

Are you a lyricist or are you a popstar?

If you're a lyricist, do your thing

Say the word

Humble yourself