Yes, London! You know: fish, chips cup o’ tea, bad food, worse weather, Mary fucking Poppins, London.
Too many wannabe badboys flexin’ like they’re so rowdy
Look a badboy straight in the face, tell him I’m a real badboy f-ck Mike Lowery
I don’t take disrespect neither do the guys that are standing around me
I do it how they didn’t wanna do it now they wanna try an do it but I’m telling them ‘low me
When I shut one eye and aim, I hit the target
Ben Cook now sitting at home now tryna figure out how he f-cked up his artist
If the game was a tray full of ice cubes then I’ll be the coldest and the hardest
The last MC that dissed me, blood on the ceiling, blood on the carpet
See I’ve got more heart than Tony Hawk but when I’m riding I ain’t ramping
I’m ready for all out war them man are lying on the floor camping
said keep it professional, Skepta forget the mad ting
I just say Candyman five times in the mirror but nothing ain’t happening
When I say that I stick it in the pussy’ole, cuz it ain’t no sexual innuendo
I been producing since Mario came on the Super Nintendo
So if a man wants to violate me I will make this beat at the fastest tempo
Kill another MC then go Spain and change my name to Lorenzo
What happened to him?
He got shot in the face Lincoln. I would have thought that was obvious.
What’d you do that for? You mistake him for a rabbit? What do you want me to do about it?
Sort it out.
I’m not a f-cking witch doctor.
But you are a bad boy yardie and bad boy yardies are supposed to know how to get rid of bodies.
I create the bodies. I don’t erase the bodies.
There ain’t no clowns round here when I find one go to the circus
F-ck a suspended sentence, I’ll re-offend if I ever get nervous
I say what I mean, mean what I say so when I say it I’m saying it on purpose
I tell a man that wants to rob me don’t bother coming if you ain’t got burners
I gave up smoking and then I got stressed out told KJ get the weed in
Lying in bed paranoid thoughts in my head, staring at the ceiling
100 nightmares in my brain clearly tryna stop me sleeping
1000 diamonds in my chain and its hurting a lot of mans feelings
You wanna know why they call me Guy Fawkes in the club just look at my table
Now they wanna know what Skepta’s worth they wish they knew my appraisal
Black carbon fibre on the roof of the white Audi I’m so interracial
I start with a little bit of foreplay, have sex then finish off with a facial
When it comes to the bedroom ladies better know I’m so X-rated
I met her on Monday made love on the same day ‘cause I ain’t Craig David
Big high grade spliff, Courvoursier n-gga I’m so wasted
I can’t drive like this but it’s okay because Jamie’s driving a spaceship
Boy Better Know
Lyrics powered by www.musiXmatch.com
|3||Cross My Heart|
|4||Nobody Made Me|
|7||Do It Like Me|
|8||Thrown In The Bin|
|10||Taking Too Long|
|11||All Over The House|
|13||Hello Good Morning (Grime Remix)|
|14||Doin' It Again 2010|
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|Skepta - Doin' It Again Album Lyrics|
|3.||Cross My Heart|
|4.||Nobody Made Me|
|7.||Do It Like Me|
|8.||Thrown In The Bin|
|10.||Taking Too Long|
|11.||All Over The House|
|13.||Hello Good Morning (Grime Remix)|
|14.||Doin' It Again 2010|
|2||You Know Me|
|3||Lay Her Down (skit)|
|5||Waka Flocka Flame|
|8||Bliss N Eso|
|9||2 Live Crew|