Evolving, how many days will it take to hit another level?

I'm a short term wrangler, won't take long

There is not another spitter that I won't take on

If you lose, well then get off

Winner stays on

Winner plays on

Winner like the Malmaison

I'm a winner

My vibes like I play for the 20,000 people

Don't bother putting hate on

I don't wanna hear a thing that you wanna say wrong

Pipe down on Twitter tryna put a face on

Tell 'em, silly choice, silly move, eediat ting

Silly me, silly you, delete your ting

We're bigger than this, I'll defeat your king

God knows I try calm but he goes in

He's just an MC but he goes in

Their style is wack like it's a repro ting

I'm going in, I ain't coming out

I got a style and it ain't running out

But my life's running out

We don't live forever, however, my music can live forever

Whatever, tell 'em man ah chat, turn a badmind bredda

And you can't fool me but you act quite clever

Sun, sea and sand well that's my weather

Whether or not you like me silly

Whatever, I count money, I'ma draw with cheddar

I don't care if you're the rawest bredda

On my own, no running your estate

No fear like, "blow" I'm a tourist bredda

What now then?

You must've thought I was a Klein like Calvin

I don't take care of chipmunks, my name ain't Alvin

I got a space where I'm living, it's out of town housing

Suck your mudda, I might say that

You wanna hear it again, play it back

I don't pet with pickney, raise that

Like a dad without a Maybach

It's Wiley again

None of them better not try me again

You're forgetting I'm a giant like Haystacks

Battle anybody for an 8 stack

I take your eight stacks, put it in my grey sack

Put it on my back, then I move off ASAP

I am music but I'm not a rap

My name's Eski, I'm sitting on the clouds where the best be

Take that, shut your mouth though

Because I'm a don

Don't get me wrong when I'm singing a song

I go back to the war, start bringing it on

What?

You play ball and you're thinking Lebron

You might spend five days all picking a song

By then I'm on a race track, winging along

Gone, I do it right and you're doing it wrong

Like what type of mic are you doing it on?

You know half good MCs ruin a song

I'm like, "why they doing it wrong?"

That's long, I'm evolving

In a free zone like Major Colvin

Everybody's rolling

I stack that money 'til I'm blue in the face

I go fast like I flew in a race

I'm on the title, I kill off any rivals

Nobody's really spitting on the beat

Nobody's steady, they're liable

Think you're bad but you can't do a fireball

My kind of style ain't viable

You gotta earn it, you gotta learn it

Your kind of style ain't viable

When it's a grime ting, I'm on a track fighting

Saying stuff, I ain't just rhyming

Better listen up clear when I'm hyping

On the Rosé, not the White Lightning

If a soundboy's dead and he calls my name

I roll up and it's like I revive him

Par, I should've let him fade out lightly

Them ever getting anywhere weren't likely

Yeah I'm Wiley

You say you don't like me, so what?

Haha, I'm not a show off

But when I'm about, it's a roadblock

Stop thinking of old songs

Move on, go change your old top

Them spitters are good but their flow's not

As tight as mine, I'm like an old knot

They got bullied in school like an old cock

God I'm in control, I'm not a robot

Here's how I evolve, I can't hold off

So many chatting on a cliff but they roll off

Climb back up, by then I float off

Inner souls confront until it goes off

My future's bright, it's orange

Kush, I smoke weed, not brown in a syringe

I go jogging, my fam might ask for me

My mum says I ain't seen nothing of him

Oi, oi, oi, oi fam

You don't understand

You see, if you're not spitting this way on the 140BPM

You are not evolving rudeboy

Oi fam

You fi spit like that yeah

Anytime you step on the riddim

You fi spit how you're meant to spit

Don't jump on no riddims sounding like no eediat rudeboy

You get me?

Stick to them styles Wiley, you get me?

You get me Wiles?

Stick to them styles and you'll go far rudeboy