Return Of The Rucksack

Lyrics

I don't wanna be on Lord of the Mics with shit MCs
 Nah, bro, I'm above that
 Using my name for a dead bit of fame, tryna get up in the game
 Yeah right, nigga, fuck 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
 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 Pique
 Yeah, I lick shots for my DJ
 And I'm still getting guap in my CK's
 Big whip I'm underground parking (skrrt, skrrt)
 That's word to the fob on my key-chain
 Nigga, 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 peng tings wanna do the sex 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 saracen bike on my ridge back (Word)
 Cold on the roads but I did that (Word)
 IPhone 3 with the GiffGaff (Word)
 Take a break little nigga, have a KitKat (Cool)
 Came for the war like I'm Mixpak
 I've got peng tings shaking their tic tacs
 And I know that I shouldn't be sending
 But broke niggas shouldn't make diss tracks
 You broke niggas should've been quiet
 I'm cold, little nigga, don't try it
 Yeah, I think I'm the best, I'm biased
 And I shoot for your chest like Payet
 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
 Man are getting killed 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 MCs 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 breakthrough
 I know Kofi, I know Kweiku
 You can't smoke me, I don't rate you
 Man, I told these niggas that it's album time
 And I'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)
 Known for the park with my lightie (Mm?)
 I was fifteen, tryna get my dick sucked (Eurgh)
 Young nigga tryna get my dick wet (Word)
 Had a cold pink jacket like Dipset
 Last night I just rang 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
 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
 I don't wanna be on Lord of the Mics with shit MCs
 Nah, bro, I'm above that
 Using my name for a dead bit of fame, tryna get up in the game
 Yeah right, nigga, fuck 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
 

Audio Features

Song Details

Duration
03:04
Key
9
Tempo
139 BPM

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