3 Wheel-ups (feat. Wiley & Giggs)

3 wheel-ups in a row, that means I'm a direct rude boy

2, 2 yats of my own, that means I'm a direct rude boy

Man can't call up my phone then go on like a direct rude boy

One side bag and a stoney don't make you a direct rude boy

Some MCs come with the wickedest talk, but really, them men chat crap

Actin' like a donny, but they gonna backtrack

When real **** step on the rhythm and chat facts

I don't put myself in places

If I weren't there, then I weren't, let's face it

If you weren't there, then you weren't, that's basic

We kill 'em with the realest shit, and they hate it

I'm a diffuser, can't act tougher than you are round me

I got youths, them tougher than you are round me

I nearly died for the game, that's right

But some spitters ain't nothin' around me

I was gettin' 'em hype while you was touchin' your lighter

I was king of the mic, and I'm a motherfuckin' G

None of you are bad round me

It's not only about me though, let me give a shout to my scene

Pussy and rum, that's a rider for real MC's

Me and Wiley had a clash, that's a real MC

Hold tight, D-double-E, that's a real OG

I said, hold tight, D-double-E, that's a real OG

Mad, reload thing, pop, pop, pop, that's a reload thing

And when I say it's Kano in the house

Everybody knows that's a reload thing

If you been shottin' in the manor from way back when

And you ain't on a kilo thing?

I don't wanna hear about country, food, and things

Man don't do those things

On sight, thought he was on sight, in it

Saw them guys, no shots fired in it

If you ain't real, then don't ride in it

That post code, that's offside, innit?

Badman from which part? Them man do witchcraft

Them man do Obeah, us man are kosher

I've been that **** since kickers and loafers

In bits where kids don't give a shit about olders

Where man don't care about fathers

Man just care 'bout figures, man don't care 'bout yards

Man just care 'bout Beamers, man don't care who's arm

Man just care if it's blingin', man don't care 'bout masks

Man'll do it bare-faced in it

We don't do none of that bare-faced fibbin'

The realest shit on your airwaves, innit?

3 wheel-ups in a row, that means I'm a direct rude boy

2, 2 yats of my own, that means I'm a direct rude boy

Man can't call up my phone then go on like a direct rude boy

One side bag and a stoney don't make you a direct rude boy

Can't tell me nothin'

Cook down mutton then pass through the gutter

Link, Jus D, red cups out the cupboard

In the jungle, I move with original nutters

And the same madman fly out for the summer

Lick two blocks, who are you? Runners

Shut down dance, who am I? Shottas

Couple wheel-ups at Butterz, that's nothin'

Boilin' point, I keep it one hundred

Yeah, G goes in

Bag three pointer, free throw thing (Swish)

**** lookin' at me on a keyhole thing

I'm a gangster and a gentlemen, G-host thing

I'm a skinny ****, ****, me so slim (Slim)

Put the jimmy on, that's when the D goes in

Man are gettin' money, type the key codes in

Please, can I have my money? What's the key code PIN?

Fuck that, **** inna act, we back them up

Knife game even if backs, I axe 'em up

I'm man of the match, I matched it up

And I'm with the bats, I patched it up

Sittin' in the trap with crack to cut

I'm sittin' in the caf and cracked a cup

I'm silly with the MAC, man mashed 'em up

I hit 'em with the blap then backed the truck

So gully, we so slick

K, hollow, we both pimps

Can't look inside the window, ****, peep those tints

Better tell the waiter, better leave those drinks

Add a little bass, better leave those synths

I'm silly with the clip, I"m gonna teach those chimps

Man, I put it on him when we see those wimps

I'm finished with the lil' ****, he's so rinsed

(Ooh) He's so jinxed, I'm king, and he's no prince

I let it bap, bap, bap, ping, ping, and then leave no prints

I said that, that, that, that's me, and yes, he's so skint

I'm in the matte black 350 with Clarke, let beef go mince

If you don't look after your own youth, boy, you're not a direct rude boy

And you're in DSTRKT poppin' that goos, boy, you're not a direct rude boy

Bond Street, just bought brand new Gucci, boy

And you, man, can't get a new toy

That's why a man's BM just pried 'em

Send **** direct rude boy

16 bars in effect, might just upset a man's lyrics

Take this pen to your neck and just Joe Pesci man with it

Cash rules everything around me, that's word to my Method Man lyric

Yeah, I roll deep in the East, but I still might Megaman with it

Yeah, I said it, yeah, yeah, I said it

Checks, we get it, cash and collect it

That **** pellet, that's nah guh mek it

Rest his head in that man's spaghetti

Youth, them are menace, nothin' like Dennis

Man got straps, ain't even got credit

Kids push prams to Westfield to lick it

And run from pigs, don't even watch Peppa

Real go-getter, geezers know better

But geezers need excitement, says Skinner

Don't resort to violence, no, never

Man just start with violence, go figure

Eat man's food before man eat dinner

Bust that booze, and roll, and drink liquor

Left that Giggsy gat for my ****

3 wheel-ups in a row, that means I'm a direct rude boy

2, 2 yats of my own, that means I'm a direct rude boy

Man can't call up my phone then go on like a direct rude boy

One side bag and a stoney don't make you a direct rude boy

Can't tell me nothin'

Cook down mutton then pass through the gutter

Link, Jus D, red cups out the cupboard

In the jungle, I move with original nutters

And the same madman fly out for the summer

Lick two blocks, who are you? Runners

Shut down dance, who am I? Shottas

Couple wheel-ups at Butterz, that's nothin'

Boilin' point, I keep it one hundred

Sweet, geez!