Stormzy - Return of the Rucksack lyrics

[Intro] I don’t wanna be on Lord of the Mics with sh** MC’s, na bro, I’m above that Using my name for a dead bit of fame, tryna get up in the game, yeah right n***a, f** that Stormz’ ain’t grime and Stormz’ ain’t clash, look don’t be fooled ’cause the war ting, I love that Call this the return of the rucksack, oi Flipz get the four-door truck back [Verse 1] Come to your block in my PJ’s Big dot dot for the briefcase Bro bought me a watch for my B-day And my girlfriend’s a boss like I’m Decay Yeah, I lick shots for my DJ And I’m still getting guap in my CK’s Big whip I’m underground parking, that’s word to the fob on my key-chain n***a can’t flex on me, can’t flex on me Rude boy thing, all the cheques on me See Big Mike on the IV site, now the pengtings wanna do the s** on me I’ve got scars for days, I’m so tribal You’re not Ghana made, you’re not Michael I can spar and spray with my idols Look, if I slap your face, it’ll go viral I was on my [?] on my ridge back (Word) Cold on the road buts I did that (Word) IPhone 3 with the GiffGaff (Word) Take a break little n***a, have a Kit Kat (Cool) Came from the wall like a mix pack I’ve got pengtings shaking their tic tacs And I know that I shouldn’t be sending but broke n***as shouldn’t make diss tracks You broke n***as should’ve been quiet I’m cold little n***a, don’t try it Yeah I think I’m the best, I’m biased And I shoot for your chest like Payet [Hook] But I roll deep on these Show these likkle MC’s about greaze Show these likkle MC’s about me I was on my steeze from 2003 Like I roll deep on these Put these MC’s on deep freeze Yeah, I roll deep on these Put these MC’s on deep freeze Yeah, I roll deep on these Put these MC’s on deep freeze Yeah, I roll deep on these Put these MC’s on deep freeze Yeah [Verse 2] Man are getting k**ed by other MC’s then coming round here tryna start Rude boy, we ain’t forgotten your past Laughing stock for the year, what a laugh Sending for MC’s can’t be your path Rude boy, come off my name, just graft Man wanna know what they paid for the part Know that I’m comfy, shout out Noel Clarke Bro you’re too thirsty, I don’t blame you I get merky, I get paid too You’re not certi’, I can’t hate you Just a wasteman looking for a break-through I know Kofi, I know Kweiku You can’t smoke me, I don’t rate you Man I told these n***as that it’s album time and it’ll probably go gold on my debut I was on a BMX bike with the trick nuts (Word) Out here tryna get my chips up (Word) [?] park with my lightie (Mm?) I was fifteen tryna get my dick s**ed (Eurgh) Young n***a tryna get my dick wet Had a cold pink jacket like Dipset Last night I just rung my accountant, like talk to me brother, am I rich yet? Like, talk to me brother, can I buy this? Big yard for my nephew Alias Can’t get this style from a stylist Then I blow on the riddim like ISIS [Hook] [Outro] I don’t wanna be on Lord of the Mics with sh** MC’s, na bro, I’m above that Using my name for a dead bit of fame, tryna get up in the game, yeah right n***a, f** that Stormz’ ain’t grime and Stormz’ ain’t clash, look don’t be fooled ’cause the war ting, I love that Call this the return of the rucksack, oi Flipz get the four-door truck back