[Verse 1]
Rhyme for no reason
Rave revelation
Good book & garage both Gabrielle saved em
Can the right verse that I write
Or that my mum recites
Bring me back to my feet, make the pain end
Mum’s on that Chilli rotation
My people die evil eye trying break em
Praise be to god so no credit is taken
Always in debt to him all that he gave us
Still gotta beg borrow steal from these pagans
Dad says it’s nazzar
Stop making these statemеnts
You rep they resеnt and they thank you with hatred
I didn’t cross seven seas for your radical tweets
Son move to the ‘burbs, get that paper
I spy so many spies I taste the bacon
Got six degrees but I’m self separated
Riz doesn’t fuck with Rizwan bruv he hates him
Code switch till I don’t know which my name is
Always impatient
Now an in-patient NHS serving up daal - yo we made it!
Drip on my wrist is some steroids and chemo' type shit
Yeah, the sickness more common in Asians
The sickness all come from self-hatred
The sickness began on a train where the bodies of babies are soaked in the blood
From a border that cuts us in half when its blade hit
Jumping down wells from the rapists
Show us your foreskin, check what his faith is
Neighbours you played with digging your graves
Yeah, our bodies can still keep the score, we can taste it
My DNA knows that they hunted me
I’m a thread in a rug pulled from under me
High as I fumble these puns to my mum
She mumbles these prayers to no one her son can see
[Chorus]
Once we were kings, when will we be kings
No more salaat, Mo Salah we believe in
Once we were kings, when will we be kings
No more salaat, Mo Salah we believe in
Once we were kings, when will we be kings
No more salaat, Mo Salah we believe in

[Verse 2]
I'm told we can live if the reds would just win
I’m jealous I’m late to develop my stuff
I’m fed up I can’t stay ahead of the rust
They rate me for repping but I don’t make enough
You’re welcome but bruv I can't live off your love
Now they wanna troll say I’m not enough
Fuck em I’d get less heat dancing for bucks
Yeah they vocal and woke but their quality sucks
Nobody comes for your throat like your own
A pat on the back and a blade to the bone
Taught there can only be one on the throne
Cling to the crowns ‘stead of building a home
Bro I don’t make any money from rap
I’ve written this fiction to make us a map
This a place for us when they send us to camps
They tell us we’re niche we’re the niche for His lamp
Mistook blood for trust mistook them for us
Tell me why’s Allah so angry with us
I know I fucked up but which sin did he clock
A slave to his will, a slave to my cock
So believe all that you see of us in the news
Say we might sneak up and feel up your boo
Dilute your gene pool and steal all your food
Same song on rotation, they wheel up the truth
Aah vah kya baat hai
Glass on the shop floor
Hearts all cardboard
Pakis recycled
My face on your dartboard
Bullshit, bullseye
Quick little facelift
Quick little Michael
I fucked your mum, how the fuck am I racist
Riz not a spaceship I’ll rep us in stages
Blackie then paki then terrorist same shit
Like cruising a ring road, stopped at old places
Ladies he laid with but fuck can you blame him
She likes the handcuffs and we’re locked in cages
Holla for models, voluptuous vapours
All I can eat while I’m on this vacation
All he can take ‘fore it breaks him