OK, so man writ a whole diss track for me Now I've got a whole diss track for you "Pepper Riddim", six at once But this one's just for you "Pepper Riddim" helped changed the game My career, your claim to fame DJ ga**ing you just to spite me, donut You ain't hot for my name Big up 0161, yeah But when you say 0161, air Cause you was a London label sellout this year So not levelling here Me rate you? Nah, heck no Built a name off mine from the get-go And ya dun know I love Manchester But I don't rate you, blud, I rate Geko, hold up Diss me for making pop songs But you got ga**ed and worked with a pop star, hypocrite RIP who? Can't get rid of this I will pepper your clart till you're sick of this I rang you cuh my man said you was cool But you sang my man too You twist the story and put it out for the views Wow, pagan yout Pagans doing what pagans do Two thirds of "Peak" was a pagan tune Dem boy paigons, I can't stand them Stand on my own, tell a pagan move Rap beats, yeah man, I'm on it too Peng tings no man are hot for you About Sonic the Hedgehog, you drop lip monkey This here's Sonic Boom Blud, you're desperate, me, I'm strategic with it Man might ease in with it Drop "My Bruddaz", go quiet Grab the pen, pap pap, squeeze him with it You wanna come to the ends with All your friends but when no one's about Come with all your j**els when everyone's there See what Tottenham's about Acting hard, repeating bars Living off my past, why do you rate him? Plus, he never came no one's block Tourist, he was outside the stadium Relegation what? Relegation who? You're relegating who? Telling kids "turn into the devil" And the industry wanna champion you Man love chat 'bout the "Champion" tune But you could never make champion move Cool, f** having As and Bs Safe, f** you and your box of food Cuh you're not real, you're not Rage Why you acting like you can't hear Rage? Reply to him, he's on what you're on He'll do it on the roads or do it on a song I'm from the school so I'm a have to school him No relegation, it's a ridiculing f** Radio times, I was the problem Now I'm 24 and I'm still a nuisance Run out of what? I've got f**ing bars They're fronting on me but I'm f**ing hard I'm a lovely guy and I'll f**ing lie And I'll f** your bird, I am not your dog Pree me until you can't pree anymore Are you a gyal? What you preeing me for? Drop lip monkey, you can't hush me I'll watch my mouth when you watch yours About "Watch Your Mouth", shh hut ya mout Basic hook, dead tune If this was ever f** Radio times with "whoopie" You'd be the worst in the room To ghost me as a writer, fam Blud, you'll need a ghostwriter, fam Messed up, I'm in a catch 22 Cuh I put n***as on when I write for man You can't finish me without mentioning grime or pop Or mentioning where you're from I'm a fly boy so you wanna hurt me Cuh you know bar for bar it's long f** that sh**, pen ammo Got my dead friends' energy channeled Whoring out for like every platform Do something on your own channel Coming at me, blud Ga**ed off a MOBO tweet, blud Anything you ever win in your life Thank the devil, then me, blud We all know who made who, blud Saviour? That's not you, blud Fire in the Booth, said I born MCs And the big baby is you, blud Chipmunk rush to reply for who? If not for him then not for you Like me, he can make a big tune But he ran out of bars and pimped you f**erys I know you man just might run out of bars Chip can't run out of bars Right now, yeah, I'm repeating the bar Cause I wanna wheel with the bar when I pull up in the dance, ayy Try and know that's light work That you're light work Cash Motto