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It's show-it's-it's showtime I don't need a sponsor or a co-sign I ain't got to say my name, you know mine I don't borrow bars, I got my own lines and my own rhymes but you can hold mine But you ain't going to act like I'm an old timer in decline since '09 You ain't going to treat me like I owe grime Whilst crying, saying you miss the old grime 1999, you didn't know grime I was making grime and getting no shine Everybody said they stand on business, till they run their mouth and get a clothes line Budgets getting cut, labels shutting down all the black stuff like the coal mines And that's a cold line for you slow minds Either you're with me or against me Eithеr you love me or resеnt me Is it a Rolls, is it a Bentley? Why am I shallow and so empty? I don't need the P, I got plenty But if you give me the P, it might tempt me You can't make this up, this ain't Fenty You can't make this up, this ain't make believe I don't over do it, I just over achieve and you better believe I took UK music overseas in '03 Oh please, it ain't complex I don't need Complex to put it in context I'm one, two, three, four, five and six Letras de cancionesBetter wash your mouth and dirty lips I'm the god-damn reason you can even sit All gassed up like that, talking shit And you could have quit or at least admit I was out here working, doing bits Had a hold of the UK throwing fits I got MOBOs, Ivor, Mercury and a BRIT Got a BET, and that ain't even it Got a bunch of plaques and a bunch of hits And I put us on main stage We ain't even on the same page We ain't the same age I don't real ly want to engage Or do they really want to see me get enraged? Why you care so much what the States think? I only care what the estates think I was creeping on ends with bait lin ks And ends ain't ever been the same since And the game stinks 'cause you get excited about mediocre stuff Maybe it's because you ain't old enough Maybe you should listen to some older stuff Maybe I'm just getting old and over stuff Plus-plus-plus I'm old enough To remember, radio picked them man there over us Not trying to blow my own trumpet Not one bit, I'd rather beat my own drum kit That's the fun bit, plus I made the beat I don't run my mouth, I just run shit I ain't losing sleep over dumb shit Or argue with pricks who never done shit I'm so far ahead before they even started, I was done with it Let's face the facts Let's forget the stats Let's forget the plaques Let's forget the tape packs with Wiley Kat, Raskit, back to back If I ain't the Godfather, I must be God There's nothing wrong with that If you say I'm not, then you can keep your God What kind of God is that? You can't polish crap, but you can thank God for putting us on the map And that's big chat Call it blasphemy but don't call it cap Done a lot for grime, I done a lot for rap I'm a happy chap, not a fanny flap I'll spark a man before I hold a slap Back to Wiley Kat, I take off my hat From the council flats When you bless the scene, you can't cancel that But when you over-chat, they over react Now let me shut my trap Yeah, right My bars are hard and they're tight I ain't hating, I just don't see the hype I'm like Stevie Wonder trying to ride a bike I'm like Stevie Wonder trying to fly a kite on a cloudy night No, I'm really like black dynamite, playing Iron Mic We're the same blood type, but ain't alike Now, get it right From Letras Mania