[Verse 1]
Who did you think it was?
Thingy-bob, thingy, and what's his face?
Should I be thinking of 'em
Or think much of the words they play with?
What do you think is wrong?
Who told you I wasn't on my grind daily?
Should I give a f**?
When did they begin to hate me?
Why they keep putting it off?
I told these DJ's they could play me
Where's this coming from?
Sometimes I wonder how they would take it
And does it piss 'em off that this game still hasn't changed me
Like crisis
They call me fam, but
We ain't related
f** the money
I running around kissing and chasing it
When T was on the wing
I was riding basic, who care's though?
What have they done for me lately?
[Chorus]
The kid's got tunes, bangers
And I'm out with the hoodlums, goons, jackers
They threw us in the works, spanners
And we ain't like other grime MC's, or rappers
You might end up with your whole crew in tatters
Whole crew in tatters
See, my strap don't care what fish it batters
I'm E-14, but I still got no manners, nah
[Verse 2]
Who would have thought such a thing existed?
Why's there always talk of my failures
And what I seem to be missing?
What good is chalk
If I ain't outlining my incompetent victims?
Call me a little Zed biased
When I say this game ain't for the sickly
What do you think of this silence
And this weird, black Mr. Ripley?
Talented? Or another act like Brady and Myra Hindley?
Burying my excuses for dead MC's in the morgue
Yeah, while sweeping out Clause's chimney
Excuse the Alzheimer's
And these 1-800 dinosaurs
For bearing with me
Just playing with flows
While the others claim I never did me
I'm just playing with flows
While the others claim I never did me