Dubplate Original - Chase & Status, Kano

Then I salute the badman back cause a real nigga recognise realness

These MCs can’t back-to-back it

I’ve been racking up bodies since Raskit’s Jordan jacket

Black tracksuit and a ratchet

Butterfly knife in the baggies

Hard knock life, no Annie

Stand one night, I’m smashing

I ain’t got time for no rally

Take all the gyal and dollar the gyal

Psst.

I’m a Yardie, that’s how I call a gyal

Check 1−2 mic and a one tune

Man spudded you then spurned you

Can’t undo history, I’ve written too much to be written off, young youts

We’re some kings drinking ace, that’s pontoon

Up Bond street.

Bond suits

That’s lyrical kung fu

Let me bump tunes.

And they split like the sun roof

The gangsters must approve and they’re waiting for the bus youts

Then the ends say I’ve got one (Bop, Bop)

Rudeboy, wheel it again cause all them people fi dead

The harder them MCs came, the harder them MCs fell

Them soundboys can’t two for two it

Man’s been stacking up riddims from 7 inch Shabba and Loochie

Dress code, Ones and twos it

Church’s?

No, just do it

Earnt this didn’t win through it

Purchase new, not newish

Kettle on the wrist with the Tetley brewing

Italian leather just flew in

Might cop a white gold president Putin

Rev at the lights, no tell em I’m Lewis

But I’ll open your door like «gentlemen do it»

Phew!

This one’s called harassment

Line up the caskets

I know Will wants the chorus

I think Sol wants some adlibs

I bet Rich wants the Royalties

But Rach wants the gasment

To done them fucking little bastards

If he’s the best, who’s man then?

Fucking hell, I’m Cassius

Abu Dhabi madness

Fookin held the zampers

Crack open the champers

For GT and them, that’s mandem!

Yeh, club full of wanksters

Man act up, that’s an ambulance

Wheelchair bandits, 50 bags for the Barristers

Yuck.

Sounds fishy innit

But fuck that shit, got bigger fish to fillet

Then grab 60k for the 60 minutes

Drunk all summer, that’s liquid living

High off life, no splif need billing

Bigger sins here, talk big boy millions

Axel Rod tryna get the billions

Criminal affiliates, black caecilians

Beef in the ends?

Better grab some militants

Wraps on deck make man so vigilant

It’s funny how death makes man so innocent

Image thing, I ain’t got time for the mumbling

I wan' hundred

No suits when I do lunch with pudding and punch

With some of these bruddas so sunken

Take a picture of them, If they ain’t done shit

When I see the pussy, I will grab the pussy but I ain’t got time for the Trump

shit

Some boys just don’t know levels but I ain’t got time to explain it

I ain’t got time to explain it

Don’t ask me about beef in the basement, I ain’t got time to explain it

I’m your favourite’s favourite’s favourite

But I ain’t got time to explain it

Touch road, man affi murk it

Got my other bredrin wan arrange it

And his chip won’t free up the shotgun seat but I ain’t got time to be faced it

I ain’t got time to explain it

I ain’t got time to… mad