Yo, yo, u wicked hard nut,

u fucking butt, licker,

and u picking bogeys, and I call u the flicker,

u wear grannies not knickers,

U wear shit shoes, I wear kickers.



U mucking me bout, get ma cru to come out,

u prob beat us, NOT, and that’s a doubt.

Im bout, 2 give a shout, to the u.a.c dats hu we b.

Chilling, graffing, rapping, mc-ing, that wat we do,

mc-ing, rapping, graffing, chilling, that wat we bring,

rap not sing.



Now all the cocks of shitty school, aka greensward,

put Ur mothafucking hands up n let me saw all Ur mc’s away cos there only one that’s bout to stay, that me,

mc Lix, that hu I be.



Chilling, graffing, rapping, mc-ing, that wat we do,

mc-ing, rapping, graffing, chilling, that wat we bring,

rap not sing.



I b seen down Southend, wearing ma bling, showing ma rapping,

I be tapping,

n it gonna be happening,

ma lyrics on the internet,

didn’t see that one come till I was a rep.



Chilling, graffing, rapping, mc-ing, that wat we do,

mc-ing, rapping, graffing, chilling, that wat we bring,

rap not sing.



Now the raps ova, so I throw the mic in tha crowd,

they shout from silence to loud.