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