[Intro]
Yo, it's CallyMan
This is addressed at Mitch
You're pony mate
You ain't got fire
The only time you've got fire is when you set clothes on fire
I've got fire on the mic!
Battyboy!
[Verse]
When I see you I'll be kicking your head in
You'll get crumbled just like resin
You'll get put down like new bedding
We'll be swinging like gypsy weddings
Grab your neck and bend it like Beckham
Trying to fire shots at me, that's a weapon
I spray fire that'll leave man sweating
Bet you know it, in grime you're getting
Trying to take me for a mug but I won't come second
Mitch is a hating prick but I'll teach him a lesson
Nowt but a pagan, it's just levels I'm setting
Childish ba*tard, putting things on Facebook but that's just pecking
You're not grime, I'll make you sound more like Weston
This badman went into the can covered in tan
Never got terrored in Preston
Thinks he's bad with the Ps he gets in
Only sells coke 'cause he's in bare debt ting
I'm not a liar like Mitch you b**h, but cheers for the mention
Let me keep building up this tension
You'll get chopped up like dissection
You're not hard, I'm harder than an erection
You're not a winner, that's out of the question
Section Boyz, I lock off his section
You done f**ed up, bum fluff
sh** in a bag is your only resemblance
You never went in, you never went in
You light on almost every sentence
Thinks he's bad 'cause he's done a little sentence
You're a little gay f**, why're you pretending
f** pretending, f** taking d** and lending
Big boy spender, I love spending
You sell d**, that's bringing attention
Gonna be a skint old man
Selling d** will never ever get you a pension
Send for me, I'll bounce back like suspension
Lift man off his feet like I'm benching
You might have Ps but you ain't got bars
Ain't got flow but you might have cars
Your flow's pure sh** just like a skinny arse
My flow's out of this world just like Mars
This little dizzy c*nt just got parred
You might have dough, but I've got heart
Your flow's soft, didn't you used to be hard?
I'll send you away like a Christmas card
You're so sh**, you can't spit this hard
Came out the pen with some sh** bars
Thinks he's bad 'cause he's in quick cars
I spray fire like rockets lift off
How can you call me a tramp, piss off
If you didn't sell d** would you even know how much things cost?
Hey Mitch, do you get the picture
Twist man up just like a Rizla
It's your time just like a wristwatch
You just got told by this sick boss
So stop thinking you're big like Rick Ross
Girls may think you're pretty now with a perm but they won't when your hairline gets ripped off
It's the end of your time on grime, tick tock
You need to stop acting like a bigshot
That's strange
I'm from [?], not from Grange
So you best had listen up, mister
Stop lying 'cause you're gonna get spun
Right sound, are we talking 'bout mums
When I see yours, she's gonna get done
One in my mouth, one in my bum
Two in her ears, one in her c*nt
Finish that slag with a donkey punch
'Cause she's a fat woman
f**, that's sound, more cushion for the pushing
Shag her so hard that I give her concussion
Talk about mine, you pushed the wrong bu*ton
Think I'm arsed about you say something
Creep up on man like a CSI Russian
Trust Mitch, you ain't gonna do nothing
When you see me, you'll probs start running
I spray fire but I'll leave man cooking
Not sending back, you're too pony f**ing
Not sending back, you're too pony f**ing
[Outro]
Mitch, this is what you're worth mate
We're burning rubbish
But I'm worth two tonne to you
'Cause you had to burn f**ing 110s and your garms mate
That's what you are, burning rubbish!