Dubplate Original

Dubplate Original When a veteran steps in the building, salute and respect from the children Then I salute the badman back cause a real Nigga recognise realness These MCs can't back-to-back it I’ve been racking up bodies since Raskit’s Jordan jacket Black tracksuit and a ratchet Butterfly knife in the baggies Hard knock life, no Annie Stand one night, I’m smashing I ain’t got time for no rally Tek all the gyal and [?] the gyal Psst. I’m a Yardie, that’s how I call a gyal Check 1-2 mic and a one tune Man spudded you then spun you Can’t undo history, Ive written too much to be written off, young youts We’re some kings drinking ace, that’s pontoon Up Bond street. Bond suits That’s lyrical kung fu Let me bump tunes. And they split like the sun roof The gangsters must approve and theyre waiting for the bus youts Then the ends say I’ve got one (Bop, Bop) Rudeboy, wheel it again cause all them people fi dead The harder them MCs came, the harder them MCs fell Them soundboys can’t two for two it Man’s been stacking up riddims from 7 inch Shabba and [?] Dress code, Ones and twos it Churchs? No just do it Earnt this didn’t win through it Purchase new, not newish Kettle on the wrist with the Tetley brewing Italian leather just flew in Might cop a white gold president Putin Rev at the lights, no tell em I’m Lewis But Ill open your door like “gentlemen do it” Phew! This one’s called harassment Line up the caskets I know Will wants the chorus I think Sol wants some adlibs I bet Rich wants the Royalties But Rage wants the gasment To done them fucking little bastards If he’s the best, who’s man then? Fucking hell, I’m Cassius Abu Dhabi madness Fucking hell the zampers Crack open the champers For GT and them, that’s mandem! Yeh, club full of wanksters Man act up, that’s an ambulance Wheelchair bandits, 50 bags for the Barristers Yuck. Sounds fishy innit But fuck that shit, got bigger fish to fillet Then grab 60k for the 60 minutes Drunk all summer, that’s liquid living High off life, no splif need biling Bigger sins here, talk big boy millions Axel Rod tryna get the billions Criminal affiliates, black caecilians Beef in the ends? Better grab some militants Waps on deck make man so vigilant It’s funny how death makes man so innocent Image ting, I ain't got time for the mumbling I’m 100 No suits when I do lunch with pudding and punch with some of these bruddas so sunken Take a picture of them, If they ain't done shit When I see the pussy, I will grab the pussy but I ain't got time for the trump shit Some boys just don’t know levels but I ain't got time to explain it I ain't got time to explain it Don’t ask me about beef in the basement, I ain't got time to explain it I’m your favourite’s favourite’s favourite But I ain't got time to explain it Touch road, man affi murk it Got my other bredrin wan arrange it And his chick won't free up the shotgun seat but I ain't got time to be faced it I ain't got time to explain it I ain't got time to be… mad