(I'm not going economy, no way) Jheeze, ayy, hahaha Ayy, mummy (I'm claiming it, man) Claim it, Amen (I'm claiming it) Claim it, haha (I said, "I'm not going econ-, um, economy") Yeah, right, why? (Stormzy is my son) Brap
I've been the G.O.A.T. for so long I guess it's not excitin' when I win Boo-hoo, someone grab the violins Every time I try a ting, top bins like Haile when he sings So of course they don't like me, I'm the king Aight, tell me why, why would I reply to him? I leave him hanging like Kyrie on the rim Where do I begin? I wear the 5990 in the gym I got a thing for shiny little things What can I say? I'm like a young Black Biden with a trim (woo) Presidential when I'm ridin' in the Bimz Takin' pictures with my cameraman, I'm shinin' in my skin For eight-figures I'm Aubameyang, I go and sign the ting Aight, I never wonder 'bout who I coulda been, cah I am it Rose gold frosted or ceramic Told bro spin it so he spun it We are not the same, big Mike's from a whole different- Top bins, what a set piece, fling it in the net Coulda Jet Li kick him 'til he bled And I'm rent free livin' in their head What's that quote? Ooh, kill 'em with success Talkin' smoke, please, give it all a- Still drippin' in finesse (Goddamn) Man, I got figures and flows, I'm a different kind of F Got a Lambo and a Rolls, that's a different kind of cheque And I said I was the G.O.A.T., they didn't listen when I- Aight, any time I do a big fletch, just ignore me Niggas wanna hear my side of the story Niggas wanna hear a nigga chat like it's Maury Fuck that, you niggas better bask in my glory They call me to slide through the store cah I'm so patterned To be fair we don't go Hatton We don't tell lies I think the kids call it no cappin' The boys rough but the flows satin I J Hus'tle and I'm MoStack'ing, they wanna catch me on the roads lackin' You better pray that it don't happen (niggas) And I don't sell drugs, still I'm dope rappin' Have your ho chattin' Stiff Chocolate with a book To be fair, I don't feel Twitter Gettin told I'm not a real spitter, by some broke-arse bill splitter Listen, nigga, you got bigger fish to fry, like If I ever see your girlfriend in Dubai, oh lord Party on the boat she's onboard and the Birkin is a bag you can't afford And she'd like one Do the maths you ain't the right one It's alright, son, we send her back before the night's done I wrote one, light one, eight-out-of-ten She's my aight one, think of a hit then I write one On when I sight one This my, this my Ghanaian flow, it's a tight one (uh-huh) If she pretty then I'll put her on a flight I'll put her on a jet if her pussy wait- Look, my nephews are listenin', my chef should be Michelin There's guests in my kitchen and my left wrist is glistenin' My tunes gettin' played from a set to a christening They're pissed on the net 'cause I said I ain't listenin' Real niggas know it's all positionin' Real niggas know I'm not the victim Alright, I am, I'll take the L, they hype the 'Gram They tell their jokes to spite the man I feed my folks they bite my hand I do the most, I'll fly to Cannes to watch a film, then bye, alright Headline Reading and Leeds like it's easy Funny when they talk about the game cah it needs me Niggas wanna hear me nigga spill it all to Zeze Fuck that, you niggas didn't know that I'm greazy It's easy, man talk shit until they see me Believe me, all you niggas give me (heebie-jeebies) Word to Lauryn, I will die on this hill You little nigga's two figures shy of my deal Someone slide me the bill (okay, I got it) What my eyes don't see, the Messiah reveals If it all goes left, give Josiah my will 'Cah I guess I'm just a brudda that they're dying to kill, ah (woo) Your boys mad dark, still I shine like a grill Yeah, I'm healthy and I'm blessed but I rhyme like I'm ill Line bagger, holding down the line like Kalil (ooh, ooh, ooh) I live a life that they try to fulfil So they hate on my name but admire my skill And before I touch stage, gotta wire my mil, ah My niggas do drill that was prior to drill If you see me with my dragons lookin' fly in the field Know Khaleesi couldn't fathom all the fire I spill, nah You old washed niggas should retire, for real There's a time you should move and a time to be still There's a time to destroy and a time to rebuild But all I see is washed up godfathers and washed up podcasters I own all my masters, I ain't got masters I throw a party on a yacht and wear my Yacht Master They think I just chart top, but I'm the top charter Gaffer like I'm Scott Parker From when the mandem used to rock parka's I am Nasty but I'm not Marcus Genius, I could of clocked Harvard My niggas slide but they are not dancers Dead rappers wanna swap charges Nah, I mean they wanna swap stances Nah, I mean they wanna trade places Get to scrappin' like I ain't famous Have you dashin' like you're Dwain Chambers Follow fashion, man, you fake greatness To make a classic, yeah, it takes ages But I still do it like my mate David Nah, I mean like my bro Dave Me and MIST, that's a close shave They fear this but they won't say, I'm the nearest on a cold day They love to talk about the old days Them man are old like, "Annie are you okay?" I prefer not to speak like I'm José (I prefer really not to, uhm, not to speak If I speak I am in, in big trouble) (Wooo) This is what I meant when I said what I said I got whips in my drive, pretty women in my bed My accolades are bigger than my head Stylo told me, "Kill 'em 'til they're dead (They killy dem ah carry, one inna di head, Don Dada, kick off face with Bank Robber) If it's a ting then I'll just pattern it like Trev, ayy Man, I've got 'tec's like I'm Kylian, punch like I'm Dillian Walk in the gym and I bump into William The S on my chest, yeah, that stands for "Success" But the M on my hairline stands for my millions Ah, I got a brilliant car I got a brilliant team, they wanna bring up my past because I'm living my dream What we achieved ain't a shock cah we knew it We just step real clean and say, "Mel made me do it", ow Ask Mel, now there's not enough space in my wardrobe Benjart fitted on my waist and my torso Niggas keep on thinkin' I'm a chief, oh, you thought so? Chatty patty niggas, man, you niggas need a talk show I've never seen real dons turn Loose Women Sleep real good, fresh sheets, new linen If we ever played a game called "Guess who's winning?" And you open up the door, I'll be in the room chillin' (message) There will never be a time when me and you's twinnin' Why? Different status, my chicks the baddest You know the bag Chanel, the trips to Paris And if your boys a king, the bits a palace Okay, three O2's that I sell-out, man, I'm such a sellout Might fuck around and bring Adele out Me and Flipz don't talk like we fell out Ah, get the hell out, all the shit I gotta spell out Please A-L-L-O-W me Every time I double plaque they gotta double my P I was double-spread Mike, now I cover I-D Wouldn't cover for you dickheads if you covered my- Ah, I knew they wouldn't like it if I blow I got all you niggas rattled but you hide it on the low I'm from the city where they're ridin' with a pole And now my nephews can't believe that Spider-Man's my bro Shout Tom, that's my guy, on top 'til we die Yeah, I skipped through the world, hop-scotch to Dubai There's a lot to divide, but my God will provide Couldn't get to where I'm going if you hopped in my- I got TJ tellin' me we're done Said "I thought I got an hour left?" Ah, man, my enemies are out of breath I pray, then I fast, then I counter press Spent a week in the sticks, but tonight I'm at my South address Ah, you know how it gets Holy Spirit, that's just how I'm blessed Ayy, twenty bags for my showerhead, a niggas gotta shower fresh You little boys are out your depth You know I got Ashville on the yard and Yianni on the wrap I mean I'm Yianni on the rap I'm the best at what I do, they think I'm braggin' on a track But I'm flexin' cah it's true, and if you went and ran it back You'd know I left you with the truth 'Cause the cars don't make you this lit The money don't make you this good The plaques don't make you this cold Give a fuck what my shit sold A bust a rhyme when I'm in flip mode, you pricks know The boy's just way too nice so you always see my music on the shelf I've been on the G.O.A.T. for so long that they never hype a niggas up So I guess I gotta do it to myself, boy
Writer/s: Alan Lomax, Andrew Brown, Michael Ebenazer Kwadjo Omari Owuo Junior
Publisher: Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind
"Bittersweet Symphony" by The Verve samples an obscure orchestral arrangement of the 1965 Rolling Stones song "The Last Time." The Verve had to sign away most of the royalties before they could release the song.