Knock Yourself Out
Skepta, daniel son boy Better Know
The hardest listen
Listen, the ladies call me the Royal Mail
'Cause I got the total package
Fuckin' 'em in Buckingham palace (Yes)
I'm up my own passage
Fuck them human beings, I'm on my own planet
You anus, I'm famous
So ironically, I've got love for my haters
But run it up round here
End up with two straps on
Your tongue like Prada trainers
I want new money, but I still get old money
So I gotta spend my pension
I should buy you a Tom Tom for your birthday
'Cause you ain't got no direction
No future, no plans (Nah, nah)
That's why you get air from fans
I buss on your girl then I told her to put
The letter B at the beginning of the 28 grams
(Bounce)
I didn't ask you how to get here
So what makes you think I need your help now?
You see them boxing gloves over there
Put them on (Fam)
Fam, and knock yourself out (Listen, yeah)
I'm cool, I'm fine
Boy Better Know is the label
I'm already signed
I'm the reason anyone over 25
Still listens to grime
Yeah, what? Take that to heart
My ear's burning from the talk in the yard
Man are like "Nah man, I don't like grime
But you see that nigga Skepta he's hard"
Nah, you can't do it like me
Part time criminal, full time MC (yeah)
Feds wanna lock up the IC3 (yeah)
Because I don't play like a blank CD
It's the way that I am with the women
I murked every single dance that I've been in
I'm a commercial artist
Still one of grime's hardest
Stuck in the middle like sandwich filling
I didn't ask you how to get here
So what makes you think I need your help now?
You see them boxing gloves over there
Put them on fam, and knock yourself out
They wanna criticise Skepta
But I got one question can you do better?
Always ready, bet you a tenner
You're not sure like English weather
Wanna see an action replay of
Lord of the Mics 2
Then just write me a letter
I'm heavyweight, you're light like a feather
The microphone champion forever
These MC's wanna diss my baby mum
You're so lucky that I don't have a child
Swear to God, would've gone wild
Buss a man's face off the bathroom tile
I don't wanna battle rap with man no more
You must think that we're in 8 Mile
Manna get mad like Jeremy Kyle
Give a man a Chelsea smile
How dare you chat about my unborn kid
Anyhow, I see another YouTube vid
Bare wickedness, that man have grown with
Buss a man's face off the toilet lid
Every other lyric chatting 'bout
Bun an informer
But everybody knows what you did
Some bumbaclart rahtid
Manaman's rolling with a six
I didn't ask you how to get here
So what makes you think I need your help now?
You see them boxing gloves over there
Put them on (Fam)
Fam, and knock yourself out (Listen, yeah)
I'm cool, I'm fine
Boy Better Know is the label
I'm already signed
I'm the reason anyone over 25
Still listens to grime
Yeah, what? Take that to heart
My ear's burning from the talk in the yard
Man are like "Nah man, I don't like grime
But you see that nigga Skepta he's hard"
Nah, you can't do it like me
Part time criminal, full time MC (yeah)
Feds wanna lock up the IC3 (yeah)
Because I don't play like a blank CD
It's the way that I am with the women
I murked every single dance that I've been in
I'm a commercial artist
Still one of grime's hardest
Stuck in the middle like sandwich filling
I didn't ask you how to get here
So what makes you think I need your help now?
You see them boxing gloves over there
Put them on fam, and knock yourself out
I didn't ask you how to get here (Get here)
So what makes you think I need your help now?
(Now) you see them boxing gloves over there
Put them on fam, and knock yourself out
(Fam, yourself out)
I didn't ask you how to get here
(How to get here)
So what makes you think I need your help now?
(Your help now)
You see them boxing gloves over there
Put them on
(Just put them, just put them on)
Fam, and knock yourself out
(Fam, yourself out)
