Foreign Beggars - Hold On lyrics

[Hook: DVS] Hold on tight to what you own, cos there's people like me outside your door Hold on tight to what you own, cos there's people like me outside your door [Verse 1: Orifice Vulgatron] Step in the ring, blaze tracks slay bate twats Make that train, wait back, spread an 8-track Spitting out all kind of rhyme with the way that Make any rapper wanna stop with the late chat Nobody knows a n***a looking to bring by You couldn't even rock a tour with a play back Foreign beggar fam over run as I take that Rap Montana, write my name by the train tracks Kit Kat rappers get bucked and b**h slapped Crap rap guys, some wanna play flip-flap? Sit back, coch, chit chatter, where the chick at? Charge next man Ten Grand for a Tic Tac Spit down lyric quick fast what a sick track Ship-wrecked rappers get bucked with a big bat k** any mini-man dick with a sh** gat Spill a man's guts with the face of a pick-axe Woah? coming on a bit gotta get a (lick sharp?) Quick fix, b**h, then did a bit of crack rock Red-hot rapper, n***a knock him out, he'll spit raw Lock up any amateur that wanna come sh** talk Rubba-dub-dub get dumped in the trunk Armed with a mic and a big bag of punk Jump up, run amok and then I'll come with the funk Make a hall stand up, f** 'em up from the back to the front From my earliest pillaging and scheming with mad men Bad men from all the way from Erith to Camden Challenging any man who wanna step on a track And if he's still talkin' sh** I'll get ready to lamp him Big Mac rappers get smacked up in tandem Acting like dons but they're openly ramping Jump up in the back of the car like he was strapped in None of us panic, k** a man with my fat pen [Hook] x 2 [Verse 2: Skinnyman] Blud, I ain't trying to prove nothing, move something Too many man are left dead for nothing Get battered up, whacked up, spurred for nothing Beat down, hurt, or left murked for nothing blad But thats just how tings were gwaanin When a man said he's a bad man from morning Now wait till Sunday morning, his family's in church, dressed in black; mourning Nobody had a chance to warn him coz he had just been On stage performing and certain girl-dem had started to swarm him And after that just sounds quite alarming One brother said your a chief and yes you can Tell that im looking beef coz i live around all the depression On the streets [?] my main stress relief Bust one, and in your belly Bust one, and in your teeth And heap on anyone I'm looking to eat Cos any idiot could have drawn the gun back Lick out the barrel and make the gun clap Me I just step at the mic and I run checks Give them the eye and I shall return in a comeback Mr Vulga asked me to guest track Instead of me telling the man dem to get flat The manor that I'm living in, yes I rep that Anything I want in life yes I get that Disrespect me, get disrespect back Are you really from the ends blad? Forget that Are you really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, from the ends blad? Forget that Are you really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, from the ends blad? Forget that [Hook x 2]