96 Bars of JME - JME

Hold tight the Grime Reaper on productions, yeah

Big up my mum, my dad, my brother, my sister, Skepta

Serious

Hold tight Wiley, Boy Better Know

See I got bare labels phoning me but

Cash point ain’t showing me no love

Everyone’s got my tunes on their phone

And the CD in the PC at home

Is packed with all of the tunes that I’ve done

But my wallet, ain’t saying one

You think I’m making mad P

You’re right, my money is angry with me

It took me five years to get 10 A to C’s

But, in five days I get 10 AC’s

Somebody out there please tell me

What I’ma do with my uni degree?

I don’t want a job

Blud, I swear down, I just wanna be a big MC

Or something along them lines

Swear on my life, music means so much to me

Getting a degree to me is like a plan B

It will mean so much to my family

But understand me

JavaScript, makes me wanna swear like Plan B

I know it’ll come in handy

I stick with it, even when I get angry

And I’m not on my own

I got a brother in this music game like Brandy

He knows how much music means to me

We’re just trying to make money legally

I know guys that’ll creep in your house

Go upstairs, open a safe and steal a G

That sounds like quick P to me

But still, I travel on C2C

And WAGN, and Silverlink

Everything’s not what it seems to be

You think I’m stupid, move on

Stereotype me, I’ll prove you wrong

Ask anybody that knew me ages ago

They’ll say I had my head screwed on

«Yeah Jamie, that guy he’s cool

Trust me blud, he went to my school

He made me a ringtone once

It was like Eskimo mixed into old school»

To this day, I still ain’t changed

Jme, music in his veins

Same face, same deranged

Thoughts coming through the speaker each day

Mum still shouting, «Turn down the bass»

Bredrins lounging around the place

I don’t smoke but my room’s smoked out

Can’t see my hand in front of my face

As if I’m in a time capsule

My pockets are still filled with shrapnel

Only difference is, some of it’s Euros

I’ve been travelling, capital to capital

I’ve been 'nough countries I swear

One day I’ma write them all down

If you turn the clock back 2 years

I don’t think I’d have even left town

But still, I used to make hits

I was blessed with a lyrical art

The other MCs, they weren’t shit

But they come like lyrical farts

And they stunk, I used to hate them

See, nowadays, I rate them

Not 'cause I think that they’re down

But for simply sticking around

The bars I write, they’re like Red Bull

Trust blud, I got a whole shed full

Yeah, sometimes I can be a hothead

But, more time, my head’s cool

When I’m a hothead I don’t get lyrical

I get serious, lyrically physical

I start shouting stuff like, «Derkhead»

And people think it’s really cool

In the MC rank, I’m a piss-take

Yeah blud, I’m way before fifth place

Jme, everyone saw his face

See now, I’ve got about four mixtapes

Trust me, I know you’re playing 'em

And all of my lyrics, you’re saying 'em

Even your girl says, «Shh hut yuh muh»

There’s no escaping it’s blatant

Yo, blud, man better know

No one test with the dibby-dibby flow

Flow round here on the mic, I’m a pro

Professional in the game and you know

All this war and clash is trash

I’ll make a tune or bore some gash

Don’t get rude

I said, don’t get rude

Or I will singe your 'tache

Yo, blud, stand over there

Dare, you, attempt to swear

Swear, down, I’ll burn your ear

'Ear what blud you know I don’t even care

All this push out your chest is late

I did that in 1998

Don’t get rude, I said don’t get rude

Or I will phlegm in your face

Derkhead, edition three