(Verse 1) frisco
Suttin like Jendor
Fris I'm a big money sound investor
Got couple skengman friends in my ends
From West Green, Appleby to (?) and (?)
Big bars lick off your head like cider
Which little fa**y said I ain't got lyrics?
I got bars, they got gimmicks
Why should I car 'bout this wasteman rhymer?
24/7 I'm an all day grinder
Light up a n***a no match no lighter
I'll send a man so high in the sky that he won't come down
And your friends won't find ya
Actually, man can't chat to me
Do a better tune than Skengman Mode and get back to me
Actually Frisco's a batchelor rhymer
I be the best since (?) weed grinder


(Versе 2) Skepta
When I get startеd I won't stop
I cleaned up with a broom and a mop
Now I got IBS on my intestine feeling like it's tied in a knot
It must be all the champagne
I'm a dan like Mark Anzaine
Heavy weight champion so you know I had to get Frank Warren on my album campaign
A lot of money's exchanged in accounts
Stupid amounts
All your cheques are like a basketball
They bounce
You man are air like Michael Jordan
Better still you man are like Rodman
Big shout to my n***as in Tottenham
That love me like they love Game in Compton

[Verse 3]
OK, you wanna look in my boat? Fine
You're the reason I wrote this rhyme
Yo, man are baders, man are badman
Man, I ain't seen a five-pound note in time
Yo, you can't diss a friend of mine
Trust me, you don't wanna cross this line
Don't think you can stand in the background of the video
Ad-libbing next man's rhyme
Do you think I'm dumb?
Try to boy me? Nah, that can't run
Yo, you're lucky, the old Jme
Bun out your chest like Jamaican rum
'Cause you got your name on your Nike Air Dunks
'Cause you got your name on your Air Force Ones
You could have your name on your Reebok pumps
Don't think you could ever diss man once, serious
Go home, look in the mirror
Realise no one's scared
You tried to diss me, no one cared
When you came radio, no one teared
You're not hench, you're not bad
You just screw up your face all weird
Tryna get hype off me. you get air
Tryna get hype, you get air
You jumped out the whip, no one ran
Nobody cares what you got in your hand
Nobody cares what you got in your jeans
I'll slap you so hard I'll crack your phone screen, yo
Don't bring war to the king
Don't tell me about draw for the ting, yo
Right about now, your head's so big
You get charged more for your trim, safe!