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)