作词 : Justin Clarke Samuel/Kingslee James Daley/Ashley Nwachukwu/Kwadwo Amponsah 作曲 : Cameron Palmer/Neil Waters They say no man is an island But I left island Had to do my ting If I sense any sign in ya eye that ya triflin' It's bye, no fussin' or fightin' Seen all they drops, the same already Seen the bussdowns and chains already Save ya drip, made it rain already Pissed off cah my cup couldn't take more Henny Let's discuss it Wanna tell lies to the public Cool, if you like it, I love it But, true, I'm that guy in the function Spit fire and leave shit alight like a bunsen burner Manna grill beef, you don't want this burger Money filthy, a disgusting earner Word up That's ya luck, it's gone further Do a man like Klashnekoff It's 'Murda' Getting dough on the front end Can't take man for a prick, no thorn I don't need no horns, I blow my own trumpet Thank road for the funding Only bro knows how it's rolled into hundreds Lizzy gone rogue, pink notes in abundance Did all my bicep curls and my lunges True say you ain't ya self when ya hungreh Coldest I don't how you ain't noticed Without Ghetts there ain't no list Your new shit's like my old shit Your old shit was just so shit Hold it Who wants smoke? I'll roll it Who wants rope? I'll hold it Let's play hangman How do I know you ain't got no heart? X-ray and scan Them man haven't been transparent But I know the minerals they've got missing Indirect often Indirect, just bare subliminals they've got written I don't wan' play fill in the blanks I'd rather play fill up the bank Easy think of a plan Meet me, pick up a shank BP, fill up the tank I was in the cold, no comfort Grade 8s in music That's why I can blow my own trumpet (What you got?) I got news for the public (What else?) I got views for the pundits I'm a sell out I ain't got room for a hundred I can only look down on people who gossip I stay 22 rumours above them **** them! When the beat it just drops And you screwing your face And you're blowing your top A shot no fighter can block A weight nobody could spot Beats, we are burning 'em London to Birmingham Course you'd have heard of 'em Fellers are shellers We're perming them, permanent Jump on this plane, but just mind for the turbulence Plane we observing on So far above that it gets kinda burdensome They are not ready for shells that we're serving 'em Food for your thought, now come swallow a murdering Gurgling on your own blood, and it's curdling (Why?) Your stomach is weaker than Worzel is My word on it, I'm earning it The s*******es I speak, they're just learning it Street shit And deep shit Like ancient Egypt and three clips Like read this and take in your teachers If he flips, then break face of eediats He's quick to make pace 'cause he's sick And these pricks, they gave chase, but he slips Not a day in your life, I tell you these grips Blud, they grip on the track better than V6 And when I've written a rap, I tell you these d**ks They couldn't buss if they gave 'em three chicks A whole load of crumpet No, bro, you don't blow ya trumpet I roll over dunces I throw loads of punches D**kheads are lunches Back back, gimme space, gimme, uh Got God, got Jah with me, uh Why the devil wan' war with me? Hmm Why the devil wan' spar with me? I been around, been around for a sec I need TLC like Left Eye When shit got peak, man left I Now my heart turn black like Wes Snipes Sniper Watch a man shed skin like viper Drop two-two bars when I like her No coming back like Rikers All that drip, but you're not impressive Spark my thoughts, pen my lessons Man can't talk to much about blessings Them man t