[Intro]
Serious
Hold tight DJ YoungBlood
Hold tight Sergeant, YoungBlood, yeah
Jme still here
Yeah
Not gone nowhere
Not in prison or in jail
But hold tight the man in prison styll
Hold tight Bossman Birdie
Hold tight Trigga, hold tight Skepta
J-M-E
Hold tight Big H, President T
[Verse]
Alright, everybody knows you're some goody-goody
That screwface and that Rocawear hoodie just ain't working
Sorry, bredrin, I'm Buzz Lightyear and you come like Woody
Look at my man bigging up his chest, looks like man's tryna grow some breast
Stop that, before you get an arch back, I don't know who my man's tryna impress
Everybody knows that I shot O's, and I make P's, shot Q's like Kano
Under my tongue is where they go, shotting since Wiley had cane row
To make dough you need sense, I still don't throw away five pence
One cat thought I was dense, owed me a lump sum and he tried jump some fence
Everybody says that garage should stop 'cause it's cheap like Calypso or Tip-Top
MCs turn UK Hip Hop, scared their debut album will flop
I'm flogging food like a chip-shop, so I'll turn to that shit if this flops
Plus I go uni so if shit pops off with the cops, trust me, I've got it locked
From day one, I said I was serious
But nobody took me serious
For dem boy, I go to the rave
And I spit in the rave, and I spit in their face
For the disrespect, 'cause I am serious
Boy Better Know I am serious
Jme don't take no shit
Boy that don't like Jme, listen up
You're not serious, 'cause you got your name on your Nike Air Dunks, blud
I'll beat you up!
You're not serious cause you shot two kis of punk, blud
I'll beat you up!
You're not serious, I don't care if you've got a yout, blud
I'll beat you up!
You're not serious cause you got an Akademiks tracksuit, blud
I'll beat you up!
You're not serious cause you got low-profile tyres, blud
I'll beat you up!
You're not serious cause your name's on couple flyers, blud
I'll beat you up!
You're not serious, I don't care if you've got your own drum, blud
I'll beat you up!
You're not serious, can't clash Jme, are you dumb, blud?
I'll beat you up!
Alright, rudeboy, calm down
Acting like you've been smoking brown
You've got a Tigra, you're not raw
I'll put air vents in your car door
Alright, rudeboy, just shush
Acting like you've been smoking bush
You're not big in the scene
I'll put air vents in your windscreen
Blud, you've been smoking the rocks again
Bare air you're getting, bare oxygen
Cause Jme mic controller
Turns to Jme air vent installer
And I've got bare ammo like Smarties
Install air vents in your arteries
If you run, air vents in your creps
Jme's delivering air to your doorstep
When I started the game, I picked up a cue
Every five minutes, I get two shots
Never get caught with the white in the pocket
I get rid of the 8 ball in couple shots
I cut the 8 ball by eye
'Cause in maths, I weren't a fool
The real guys understand what I shot
But the little boys think I'm talking 'bout pool
Yeah blud, you're a bat
Don't let me have to draw for the bat
'Cause I will draw blood like bat
Hit you with the bat, make you fly like a bat
You batty
Yeah blud, you're a bat
Don't let me have to draw for the bat
The bat will make you fly four yards
You remind me of a pack of cards
'Cause you've got bare diamonds, but you're a joker
You get jacked four times like a smoker
You shot four Qs and think you're dealing
You're not a dealer, pick up two for mistake
I can see that you got four fours
But you won't buss them, you've got too much heart
I only use spades and clubs in war
Need to roll with a new pack or a start
So, fuck the dojo
Onto the beef like Mojo Jojo
Don't come with no showlin' shit
'Cause I will leave you on the floor with a cold coat
I'm a Street Fighter, so fuck the dojo
Onto the beef like Mojo Jojo
So don't come with no showlin' shit
'Cause I will leave you on the floor with a cold coat, no joke
Serious, I know you think you're hench
True say you've got a new weight bench
That don't help, 'cause I've got a wrench
And I've got an angry thirst to quench
Trust, fling you over that fence
Next time, think about consequence
You batty boy, if you had sense
You would not ask Jme for ten pence
Serious, I know you think you're wide
I don't know who told you but they lied
If you had stress, then blud, it died
Now, when you see me, you better hide
Trust, not a ting about pride
Stick around, you'll get fried
Serious, 'cause I jacked your ride
Won't tell nobody that you cried
I need to go piss, go to the men's
See two cats, shot two tens
Shy tens in my 1.2
Can't test me and my on point crew
Yeah, want food come to me
Top shotter Jme
O795OME-
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