[Wiley]

Evolving, how many days will it take to hit another level?

I’m a short term wrangler, won't take long

There is not another spitter that I won't take on

If you lose well then get off

Winners stays on, winner plays on, winner like the Malmaison

I’m a winner, my vibes like a rave full of 20 thousand people don’t bother puttin' hate on

I don’t wanna hear a thing that you wanna say wrong

Pipe down on twitter trying to put a face on, tell 'em

Silly choice, silly move, idiot things

Silly me, silly you, delete your thing

We're bigger than this, I’ll defeat your king

God knows I try calm but he goes in

He’s just an MC but but goes in

Their style is whack like its a repro thing

I’m going in, I ain’t coming out

I got a style and it ain't running out

But my life’s running out, we don’t live forever

However my music can live forever, whatever

Tell a man chat to a badman bredda

And you can’t fool me but you act quite clever

Sun, sea and sand well that's my weather

Whether or not you like me silly, whatever

I count money, I'm mature with cheddar

I don’t care if you're the rawest bredda

On my own I'm running your estate no fair like blow I'm a tourist bredda

What now then? you must have thought I was a Klein like Calvin

I don't take care of chipmunks My name ain’t Alvin

I got a space where I'm living it's out of town housing

Suck your mother I might say that

If you wanna hear it again, play it back

I don't peck with pickney raise that, like a dad without the Maybach

(Boodoodoodoodadadada)

It's Wiley again

None of them better not try me again

You're forgetting I’m a giant like Haystacks

Battle anybody for a 8 stack

I take your 8 stacks

Put it my grey sack, put it on my back then I move off ASAP

I am music but I'm not Arab

My name's Eski, I'm sitting on the clouds where the best be, take that

Shut your mouth though, cause I’m a don

Don’t get me wrong when I’m singing a song

I go back to the war start bringing it on

What, you play ball and you think you're LeBron

You might spend 5 days all picking a song

By then I’m on a racetrack winging along, gone

I do it right and you’re doing it wrong

Like what type of mic are you doing it on

You know half good MC's ruin a song

I'm like why are they doing it wrong, that's long

I’m evolving, in the free zone like Major Colvin, everybody's rolling

I stack that money 'til I’m blue in the face

I go fast like I flew in a race

I'm on the title I kill off any rivals

Nobody’s really spitting on the beat

Nobody's steady, they're liable

Think your bad but you can't do a fireball

My kind of style ain't buyable

You gotta earn it, you gotta learn it

Your kind of style ain't viable

When it's a grime thing

I'm on the track fighting

Saying stuff I ain't just rhyming

Better listen up clear when I'm hyping

On the Rosé, not the White Lightning

If a soundboys dead and he calls my name

I roll up and its like I revive him, par

I should have let him fade out lightly

Them ever getting anywhere weren't likely

Yeah I’m Wiley, you say don’t like me so what

I’m not a show off

But when I’m about it’s a road block

Stop thinking of old songs, move on

Go change your old top

Them spitters are good but their flow's not

As tight as mine I'm like an old knot

They got bullied in school like an Allcot

God I'm in control I'm not a Rover

Here's how I evolve I can't hold off

So many chatting on the cliff but they roll off

Climb back up but by then I float off

Inner souls can't front until it goes off

My future’s bright, it's orange

Kush I smoke weed

Not brown in a syringe

I go jogging, my fam might ask for me

My mum says "I ain't seen nothing of him"