Kelakovski - Flying To The Moon lyrics

[Verse 1] If this is armageddon Im a don I never put a f**ing foot wrong I step into a cypher spot the shook ones I was born on doomsday left alone for a few days Now I got it covered like the mask on MF Doom's face We grew up in them neighborhoods where crack's sold c**aine is cooked I'm from Edgbaston, Kings Heath and Ladywood It's all real p**y what part you think we're making up? Come to Birmingham and take a look we never fake the funk We ten deep in the lab, Kela got the beats that crack They call me SONNYJIM I'm old school like Betamax I got it locked like accounts in Swiss Geneva banks I travelled cross the country Champion hoodie is my sleeping bag Weather its Brooklyn or Birmz, hook or a verse I put in the work Pray to god it gets the push it deserves I played with fire son I could have got burned Would have made the same mistake twice f** it I still wouldn't have learned I got one foot in the grave and one foot in the dirt My cuz licked one breh with a bottle and he's looking at bird His moms is tellin me the news and him lookin at her Like f** it; it could have been worse My ends are crazy on a day to day basis im faced with facist racists Who dont disguise their hatred for blacks and asians Still im waiting for the day that I get famous No airs and graces I throw a curve ball in your equation [Hook 1] Million dollar Kelakovski is flying to the moon The human hard drive is flying to the moon The bearded wonda is flying to the moon EATGOOD Amba**ador is flying to the moon My boy Eibilon is flying to the moon Billy Brimstone's flying to the moon Jabba the Kut is flying to the moon My names SONNYJIM and im flying to the moon [Verse 2] Don't mistake me for no famous rapper Cos round here famous rappers get boxed in the face and robbed for their chain What happened to working hard? The media says to be a legitimate rapper you need to be on a murder charge Spit venom boy the poisons deadly One word and watch your boy get burried get his head squashed like a boysenberry Banging on a steel drum When I spit my rhyming sounds like im firing rounds from a sub machine gun I'm back with that hardcore rap sh**, that smoke the whole bag sh** "These rappers keep bitin like bull mastiffs!" You get your wiggy pulled backwards I released an indie cla**ic I'm free to roam on different tangents I break a backwood, empty out a bag of cheese I'm back with my Blackberry Hennessy and tobacco leaf The braggadocious, Im back off my magnum opus The crowning moment, adventures of a ca**anova She fly to the moon and back, make me feel like superman And I'm a feind for coming back like a boomerang We up close and personal, I don't rehearse at all I work this broad burning draws with the curtains drawn Mind your beezewax, I work with whom I like im strictly freelance Im in a foreign country selling weed bags, 30 euros 3 grams Whistling the theives theme I long for a short break, a sea breeze a clean beach Imaginations limitless, im not limited to cirriculum Homie im firing on all cylinders I let my mind wonder free, suddenly it comes to me Im still hungry and these rappers are looking like lunch to me This industry is not what its used to be If I released my record ten years ago these nerds would have been glued to me Instead my fanbase is made up of rappers in the same damn rat race pressing ad campaigns Depressing but we roll heavy handed, and bury ten a penny rappers like old geriatrics You fools got your yoots acting stupid I'm trying to make my money back off music I gotta to put my back into it [Cuts to fade]