3 Wheel-ups (feat. Wiley & Giggs)

3 wheel-ups in a row That means I'm a direct rudeboy Grew two yats on my own That means I'm a direct rudeboy Man can't call up my phone Then gwan like a direct rudeboy One side bag and a stoney That don't make you a direct rudeboy Some MCs come with the wickedest talk But really, dem man chat crap Acting like a donny but they don't know 'bout tracks When real niggas step on the riddim and chat facts I don't put myself in places If I weren't there then I weren't, let's face it If you weren't there then you weren't, that's basic I kill 'em with the realest shit and they hate it I'm a diffuser, can't act tougher than you are round me I've got youts dem tougher than you are round me I nearly died for the game, that's right But some spitters ain't nuttin' around me I was getting 'em hype while you was touching your lighter I was killing the mic there on the motherfucking beat None of you are bad round me, it's not only about me though Let me give a shoutout to my scene [?], that's a rider for real MCs Me and Wiley in a clash, that's a real MC Hold tight D Double E, that's a real OG I said hold tight D Double E, that's a real OG Mad, reload ting Pop, pop, pop, that's a reload ting And when I say "it's Kano in the house" Everybody knows that's a reload ting If you've been shotting in the manor from way back when And you ain't on a kilo ting I don't wanna hear about [?] food and tings Man don't do those tings On-sight, thought he was onside, init Saw them guys, no shots fired, init If you ain't real then don't ride, init That postcode, that's offside, init Badman from which part? Dem man do witchcraft Dem man are [?], us man are kosher I've been that nigga since [?] loafers When kids dem didn't give a fuck about olders Man don't care 'bout fathers Man just care 'bout figures Man don't care 'bout yards Man just care 'bout Bimmers Man don't care who's hard Man just care if it's blinging Man don't care 'bout masks Man'll do it bare-face, init We don't do none of that bare-face fibbing The realest shit on your airwaves, init 3 wheel-ups in a row That means I'm a direct rudeboy Grew two yats on my own That means I'm a direct rudeboy Man can't call up my phone Then gwan like a direct rudeboy One side bag and a stoney That don't make you a direct rudeboy Can't tell me nuttin' Cook down mutton then pass through the gutter Link dusty red cups out the cupboard In the jungle, I move with original nuttahs And the same madman fly out for the summer Lick two blocks? Who are you? Runners Shut down dance, who am I? Shottas Couple wheel-ups at Butterz, that's nuttin' Boiling point, I keep it 100 Yeah, G goes in Mad three-pointer, free throw ting Bitches looking at me on a keyhole ting I'm a gasser and a gentlemen, G hosting I'm a skinny nigga [?] so slim [?] when the D goes in Man are getting money, type the keycodes in Please can I have my money? What's the keycode pin? Fuck that, [?], we backed 'em up Now it's game-giving if it's facts, I aks them up I'm man of the match, I matched it up And I'm with the bats, I patched it up Sitting in the trap with hash to cut Sitting in the [?] with crack to cut I'm silly with the MAC, man mashed 'em up I hit him with the [?], then backed the truck Gully, I'm so slim K, Hollow, [?] Can't look inside a nigga's whip, the windows tint Better take the weight, better link those drinks [?] better leave those simps [?] with the clip, I'm gonna teach those chimps Man a put it on [?] see those wimps I'm finished with the little nigga, he's so rinsed [?], I'm king And he's no prince I let it bap, bap, bap, ping ping And then leave no prints I said that, that, that, that's me And yes, he's so skint I'm in the matte black 350 With [?] beef go mince If you don't look after your own yout, boy You're not a direct rudeboy If you're in DSTRKT popping that Goose, boy You're not a direct rudeboy Bow Street, just bought brand new goods One you man can't get, a new toy That's why a man's [?] just preed him Sent me a direct, rudeboy 16 bars in effect Take this pen to your neck And just [?] man with it Cash rules everything around me That's word to a Method Man lyric Yeah, I roll deep in the East But I still might Mega Man with it Yeah, I said it, yeah, yeah, I said it Cheques, we get it, cash and collec' it That likkle pellet, that nah gon' mek it Rest his head in that man's spaghetti Yout dem are menace, nuttin' like Dennis Man got stripped and even got credit Kids push prams to Westfield to lick it And run from pigs, don't even watch Peppa Real go-getter, geezers know better But geezers [?] Skinner Don't resort to violence, no, never Man just start with violence, go figure Eat man's food before man eat dinner Buss that booze, I roll and drink liquor Left that [?] for my nigga 3 wheel-ups in a row That means I'm a direct rudeboy Grew two yats on my own That means I'm a direct rudeboy Man can't call up my phone Then gwan like a direct rudeboy One side bag and a stoney That don't make you a direct rudeboy Can't tell me nuttin' Cook down mutton then pass through the gutter Link dusty red cups out the cupboard In the jungle, I move with original nuttahs And the same madman fly out for the summer Lick two blocks? Who are you? Runners Shut down dance, who am I? Shottas Couple wheel-ups at Butterz, that's nuttin' Boiling point, I keep it 100