Yo, yo, u wicked hard nut,
u fucking butt, licker,
and u picking bogeys, and I call u the flicker,
u wear grannies not knickers,
U wear shit shoes, I wear kickers.

U mucking me bout, get ma cru to come out,
u prob beat us, NOT, and that’s a doubt.
Im bout, 2 give a shout, to the u.a.c dats hu we b.
Chilling, graffing, rapping, mc-ing, that wat we do,
mc-ing, rapping, graffing, chilling, that wat we bring,
rap not sing.

Now all the cocks of shitty school, aka greensward,
put Ur mothafucking hands up n let me saw all Ur mc’s away cos there only one that’s bout to stay, that me,
mc Lix, that hu I be.

Chilling, graffing, rapping, mc-ing, that wat we do,
mc-ing, rapping, graffing, chilling, that wat we bring,
rap not sing.

I b seen down Southend, wearing ma bling, showing ma rapping,
I be tapping,
n it gonna be happening,
ma lyrics on the internet,
didn’t see that one come till I was a rep.

Chilling, graffing, rapping, mc-ing, that wat we do,
mc-ing, rapping, graffing, chilling, that wat we bring,
rap not sing.

Now the raps ova, so I throw the mic in tha crowd,
they shout from silence to loud.