|
This ain't the down it's a upbeat |
|
Make it complete, so what's the story? |
|
Guaranteed accuracy, enhanced CD |
|
Latest technology, darts at Treble 20 |
|
Huge non recuperable advance, majors be vigilant |
|
I excel in both content and deliverance |
|
So let's put on our classics |
|
And we'll have a little dance, shall we? |
|
No sales pitch, no media hype |
|
No hydro, it's nice and ripe |
|
I speak in communications in BOLD type |
|
This ain't your archetypal street sound |
|
Scan for ultrasounds north, south, east, west |
|
And all 'round and then to the underground |
|
You say that everything sounds the same |
|
Then you go buy them |
|
There's no excuses my friend |
|
Let's push things forward |
|
You say that everything sounds the same |
|
Then you go buy them |
|
There's no excuses my friend |
|
Let's push things forward |
|
As we progress to the checkpoint |
|
I wholeheartedly agree with your viewpoint |
|
But this ain't your typical Garage joint |
|
I make points which hold significance |
|
That ain't a bag, it's a shipment |
|
This ain't a track, it's a movement |
|
I got the settlement |
|
My frequencies are transient |
|
And resonate your eardrums |
|
I make bangers not anthems |
|
Leave that to the Artful Dodger |
|
The broad shouldered, 51% shareholder |
|
You won't find us on Alta Vista, cult classic, not bestseller |
|
You're gonna need more power |
|
Plug in the free phase and the generator |
|
Crank it up to the gigawatts |
|
Critics ready with your potshots, the plot thickens |
|
Put on your mittens for these sub-zero conditions |
|
But remember I'm just spittin' |
|
Remember I'm just spittin' |
|
Once bitten forever smitten |
|
You say that everything sounds the same |
|
Then you go buy them |
|
There's no excuses my friend |
|
Let's push things forward |
|
You say that everything sounds the same |
|
Then you go buy them |
|
There's no excuses my friend |
|
Let's push things forward |
|
Split jewels like eastern riches, junkie fixes |
|
Around here we say birds, not bitches |
|
As London Bridge burns down, Brixton's burnin' up |
|
Turns out you're in luck so I know this dodgy fuck in The Duck |
|
So it's just another show flick |
|
From your local city poet |
|
In case you geezers don't know it |
|
Lets push things forward |
|
It's a tall order but we're taller |
|
Callin' all mawlers, backstreet brawlers |
|
Corner shop crawlers, victories flawless |
|
Love us or hate us but don't slate us |
|
Don't conform to formulas |
|
Pop genres and such, Sharp darts, Double Dutch |
|
Parked cars, troubles a much with more Bud |
|
Let's push things forward |
|
You say that everything sounds the same |
|
Then you go buy them |
|
There's no excuses my friend |
|
Let's push things forward |
|
You say that everything sounds the same |
|
Then you go buy them |
|
There's no excuses my friend |
|
Let's push things forward |
