High Rise

Yeah D-V-Z

Big Up Ratchet

Hold tight Danny C

Yeah, yeah you know how we do this

It's Tales From The Crypt 2006, well equipt

Yeah big up Mikey, it's OutTakers

Tales From The, Tales From The

[Verse 1]

It's like, appreciate the craftsmanship

Lyrics interacting with the beat to form a partnership

Developing the skill I need to use and start enhancing it

Got lines to make your carcass split, find your stash and dart with it

And if you dream of being better, then depart with it

I aim above the clouds, and Lord's heaven's where my target is

I'll never lose, I'm too proud, you'll wish you never started it

Like alien conspiracies, we'll never know the half of it

But how can we be the only living creatures in a universe that features, more planets than a library has readers

I talk but inside of me I'm speechless, wary of the secrets that we stumble over when the reaper meets us

I need to try and rise up and out my own demise, cleanse your ears from spitters that continually told you lies

But none of this was accidentally plotted overnight, I'm one of few oversights so don't be acting so surprised

When the art of intelligent bars and flowing dies

Spitters take a seat, forget what you think you know inside

My thoughts and their thoughts definitely don't coincide

My mind's a cave of no return, I'm warning you, don't go inside

It's like Illuminati scrolls, your inner secrecy

That's why you see me drift away when loose ballers speak to me

Keep my flows tight the way it is and way it needs to be

Not everybody knows right, it's life ain't what it seems to me

Yeah, but it seems to me I'm a castaway

Guided by nan's soul, my light throughout my darkest day

Time moves too fast, I can't just let it pass away

Keep on writing filthy, makes an impact in the largest way

It's straight lyricism, the street's a villain ridden

Before the thugs hit the clubs, make sure the milli's hidden

It's either competition, no I didn't think up vision

Friends of mine doing time behind stingy prisons

But when it comes to bars call me the emperor, seventeen but I only need sixteen to dismember ya

Sorry if I offended you, Im not this cocky regular but people wanna talk like they're better? I'm fucking ending ya

I think to walk up in the bank, brandish the calibre

Bag up all the money then just fly away to Malaga

I'll take my boys with me but I'll leave behind the scavengers

Disappointed with spitters will call us the new ambassadors

Making altercations and changing the way we spit in Britain

Revealing hidden talents when I compose myself and ride the rhythm

God knows my pride is hidden, slowly I unite the system

Gathered an army in these cold streets to fight for wisdom

Open the brackets, me and Ratchet, the ultimate package

A combination known to be savage, he makes the beat and I choke and attack it

People patrolling the planet, know that my flow is volcanic

It's tuck with me like the smell of weed smoke in my jacket

But I'm hidden like the text in the DaVinci code

Invisible to the public eye because nobody thinks I'll blow

On point but I'm thinking slow, I think it's time to make a roach

And grab the rizla and weed and then just roll and smoke

Inhale the smoke of a rebel, I'm independently firing

Demonic scripts so sick i've awoken the devil

And yes I'm broke on a level, nah I'm not lying

I'm constantly trying to get my music off the ground and flying

It's like, I cause big commotion, runaway like locomotion

Come back at a better time and grab an eighth and start the smoking

It's like I'm only joking, I'm only going home

But not before years of cannabis smoke and sweat and broken bones

Feeling shit like an informant who broke the oaths

And now he knows every man on road is hunting for his soul

That's how it goes, although I never give the mic up

I never get no money, recognitions or magazine write-ups

And the odds are against me, maybe it's time to put the mic up

But I love the music, can't decide, I'm trying to make my mind up

Ten years time, looking down the line, where will I wind up?

Working like a bitch or in the sun happily signed up?

Laughing 'cause it beats me, yeah, I'm what the streets speak

And I'm standing on death's peak at twenty thousand feet

I need twenty grand a week to fulfil the life I need

So pass the rizla and weed, let me proceed