Текст песни
Come on, rap it ain't my forte, wait
And on top of that I drive a Ford KA
Play ball games and board games with my four great mates
Then fall asleep on the floor round at Norman's place
A cor anglais would suit me more than this hip-hop
And TikTok, Christ don't even mention it, God
Will my hooks catch on? I think not
Jesus you could hear a pin drop
And that time I did clock it
'Ere yar mate, I ain't even got a wrist watch
A Tissot, where the clips got big rocks and it's top
I can't drop lyrics sick as Alfred Hitchcock
Let me recapitulate to repaint the picture mate
Am I still gonna spit when I ain't fit for Insta
Facebook, Twitter or Pinterest, ey
I'm more of a LinkedIn page
Let me answer my question before that
Am I gonna blow on TikTok or aren't I
What?! Will a girl with Armani on her
Be on a reel dancing to this dark genre
Nah, at most kids will Danse Macabre for hearts
It's obvious I ain't a party starter
I make raw music to do Krav Maga to
To sit and cry to whilst you're drinking lager
If I could make my tunes a bit more harder
I might raise my bar to a Spotify charter
A necklace is irrelevant, ain't a fan of a fast car
I need to turn reckless on a beat as an emptied out scrap yard
I bet soon as I find my feet I will drop and get cancelled
Like when you're wandering down the street
And you're losing your bank card
I play Rap God on repeat while I'm tryina write something that hard
A platinum plaq on a placard I want plastered in my back yard
I'm gonna rap 'til my mandible detaches from my damn jaw
My metatarsals cramp, I get carpal tunnel and Raynaud's
I do up my ASICS or my Reebok Classics
Pretend I run rap on a track doing backflips
But am I actually strapped with black magic
A flak jacket attached to my back? Nah - damn it
Then maybe I ain't up for this I may just lay down
The only rap battles I've had were in a playground