On Your Marks (Intro)

{Intro} Yeah On your marks, you ain't ready for man Yo [Chorus] I said I'm sick with it, fucking rip it till the beats finished I spit an image when I pay the mic a visit Got an evil sort of spirit but I'm classy like a violinist Even though the lyrics are explicit, fam, you need to get wid it On your marks, I swear this is just the start Right here and the finish line is so far apart But I'm grinding like Tony Tell him "Don't phone me", I can't class him as my homie [Verse 1] Put your trainers on, it's time to get the cake in don When you hear the bang, set off the blocks and get the racing on When I write a tune I hit the booth and get to lacing one How many MC's are overtaking? (None) Fuck it, pick the speed up, I might need to lift my knees up Nah, I ain't from Peckham, but I'm tryna get my P's up Tell a man to ease up when I spit I switch the greaze up Or I might come with it cold and move my engineer to freeze up (Hahaha) I just holla'd at WhYJay, told him I cooked up something fresh, he said "Why wait?" Roll to the studes, I'll be there in a few I said when I drop this set man'll be like "Why Aitch?" (Why) 'Cause I'm in Manny's top 5 and there's no doubt about it 'Cause when I drop lines, I build a sound around it Around guys that'll place the fist right where your mouth is Yeah, I'm from north but I got dons located in the south bits [Chorus] Sick with it, fucking rip it till the beats finished I spit an image when I pay the mic a visit Got an evil sort of spirit but I'm classy like a violinist Even though the lyrics are explicit, fam, you need to get wid it On your marks, I swear this is just the start Right here and the finish line is so far apart But I'm grinding like Tony Tell him "Don't phone me", I can't class him as my homie [Verse 2] When I bring out a tune everyone gets so gassed That they ain't even realised my work rates shit I write bars when I want and take all the time I need To be honest, I don't think I know what work rate is But if I put my mind to it I could probably shine through it When I'm feeling stressed, I play a beat and rhyme to it You can send but why do it? 'Cause you know that I slew it If there's a big brick wall in front of me, I'll fly through it Like, uh, fam I need this I'm hungry for it Man don't want a feature, don't want the white younger on it Fuck 'em, YouTube I'm doing numbers on it Beats so cold I need to put a fucking jumper on it Tell 'em if they want it they can come and get it, standard Come through with a mic in front of bare bystanders I don't know what you're thinking don, your girl's got standards Why d'you think that when you call the bitch she never answers? [Chorus] I'm sick with it, fucking rip it till the beats finished I spit an image when I pay the mic a visit Got an evil sort of spirit but I'm classy like a violinist Even though the lyrics are explicit, fam, you need to get wid it On your marks, I swear this is just the start Right here and the finish line is so far apart But I'm grinding like Tony Tell him "Don't phone me", I can't class him as my homie