Tell em how it is.

He was lying here thinking, kinda restricted.
Searching for a subject, something gripped him,
Tipped him over the scale, he prevailed,
Singing with a gimmick, can he get outta jail.
But he weren't behind bars, he was playing monopoly.
Instead of sitting there writing music properly,
Slopperly, sitting there chewing his pencil, a lack of stimulus,
Was driving him mental.
His ideas were thin, creativity slim, he needed a meal.
Like a bird down the gym.
Food is for thought, he thought for a min, a lightbulb flashed.
She shot up with a grin.
An epithany, right there, change the rules quick.

Why not write a track thats commercial bullshit,
Why not write a track for the mainstreams, lame tings, stuck in a day dream.

With my lyrical tool kit,
Ive written this bullshit
Sticking to the rules of commercial music,
I wont confuse it, with urban music.
Coz I'm never gonna get that far.
With my lyrical tool kit,
Ive written this bullshit
Sticking to the rules of commercial music,
I wont confuse it, with urban music.
Coz I'm never gonna get that far.

All american rappers are cool,
coz they all got more money than you, its true,
you ain't gonna match em whatever you do.

Oi, why the funny face, to my crazy antics,
its a nice change to the pop romantics.
Something fresh, to the new school raps.
And bling bling trans atlantics.
Copying the yanks, we should never of started.
And now we gona sing about the broken hearted
And the dearly departed and the weapons theyve harpened
They think we really care about the places they've partied.
Who can be the best cat licking their arsehole,
They all start a party with the game of pass the parcel.
The parcels moving, if ones to lose it,
they're be another arsehole there to abuse it.
Born in london, I suppose I'm urban,
I find all the trappings in the scene disturbing.

I Don't Want A Life With Cars and Big Tits,
Coz I'm Happy with a cuppa and some biscuits!

With my lyrical tool kit,
I've written this bullshit
Sticking to the rules of commercial music,
I wont confuse it, with urban music.
Coz I'm never gonna get that far.
With my lyrical tool kit,
Ive written this bullshit
Sticking to the rules of commercial music,
I wont confuse it, with urban music.
Coz I'm never gonna get that far.

All american rappers are cool,
coz they all got more money than you, its true,
and no one can hide from the truth.

So theres a rap, academic the best to the end of retirement.
I'm shaken by this madness, epidemic asylum.
Tries to align, something to the nine, thats the best end to requirements.
A stable childhood, a passion for poetry.
Listen to the crap, the industries throw at me.
Tried to be intelligent, but nobody stirred.
Commerically viable.
Never been heard,
London Crew, where my geezers at, wheres my birds with bacardi breezers at.
Okay, thats my cheap shot at materialism, but I ain't even been to prison
It wont work.
A year from now, you'll be stealing it.
But just right now, you ain't feeling it.
I hear the boo's and the hiss, its all musical abyss.
Its all hit and miss, bruv trust me.

With my lyrical tool kit,
Ive written this bullshit
Sticking to the rules of commercial music,
I wont confuse it, with urban music.
Coz I'm never gonna get that far.
With my lyrical tool kit,
Ive written this bullshit
Sticking to the rules of commercial music,
I wont confuse it, with urban music.
Coz I'm never gonna get that far.

If you wanna come to my hotel,
You can't coz I live with my parents.

Thats how we get down.
This is example.
This the rush on the beats there.
Just a cheap shot at commercial bullshit.
This ain't urban music!

We're never gonna get that far.