Knock Yourself Out

[Intro] Skepta, daniel son Boy Better Know The hardest Listen [Verse 1] Listen, the ladies call me the Royal Mail 'Cause I got the total package Fuckin' 'em in Buckingham palace (Yes) I'm up my own passage Fuck them human beings, I'm on my own planet You anus, I'm famous So ironically, I've got love for my haters But run it up round here End up with two straps on your tongue like Prada trainers I want new money, but I still get old money So I gotta spend my pension I should buy you a Tom-Tom for your birthday 'Cause you ain't got no direction No future, no plans (Nah, nah) That's why you get air from fans I buss on your girl then I told her to put the letter B at the beginning of the 28 grams (Bounce!) [Chorus] I didn't ask you how to get here So what makes you think I need your help now? You see them boxing gloves over there, put them on (Fam) Fam, and knock yourself out (Listen, yeah) [Verse 2] I'm cool, I'm fine Boy Better Know is the label, I'm already signed I'm the reason anyone over 25 still listens to grime Yeah, what? Take that to heart My ear's burning from the talk in the yard Man are like "Nah man, I don't like grime But you see that nigga Skepta he's hard" Nah, you can't do it like me Part time criminal, full time MC (Yeah) Feds wanna lock up the IC3 (Yeah) Because I don't play like a blank CD It's the way that I am with the women I murked every single dance that I've been in I'm a commercial artist, still one of grime's hardest Stuck in the middle like sandwich filling [Chorus] I didn't ask you how to get here So what makes you think I need your help now? You see them boxing gloves over there, put them on Fam, and knock yourself out [Verse 3] They wanna criticise Skepta, but I got one question Can you do better? Always ready, bet you a tenner You're not sure like English weather Wanna see an action replay of Lord of the Mics 2 Then just write me a letter I'm heavyweight, you're light like a feather The microphone champion forever These MC's wanna diss my baby mum You're so lucky that I don't have a child Swear to God, would've gone wild Buss a man's face off the bathroom tile I don't wanna battle rap with man no more You must think that we're in 8 Mile Manna get mad like Jeremy Kyle Give a man a Chelsea smile How dare you chat about my unborn kid Anyhow, I see another YouTube vid Bare wickedness, that man have grown with Buss a man's face off the toilet lid Every other lyric chatting 'bout bun an informer But everybody knows what you did Some bumbaclart rahtid Manaman's rolling with a six [Chorus] I didn't ask you how to get here (Get here) So what makes you think I need your help now? (Now) You see them boxing gloves over there, put them on Fam, and knock yourself out (Fam, yourself out) I didn't ask you how to get here (How to get here) So what makes you think I need your help now? (Your help now) You see them boxing gloves over there, put them on (Just put them, just put them on) Fam, and knock yourself out (Fam, yourself out)