Frontline

Lyrics

[Intro: Monkey & D Double E] Yo Ooer, ooer Yeah It's who, who? Yo, one-two, one-two We're running border It's me, me Strictly bang out of order It's murkery [Verse 1: Monkey] You're acting hard; you're firming You're vermin; I spit too determined Lyrics are disturbing You'll get what you're deserving I spit like sci-fi Coming through your hi-fi I'm too ill so why try? What are you, some wise guy? Do you wanta die? 'Cause I take on crews, forget singling Move cold, leave your neck back tingling Hot boy's at your flame, no rekindling I'll wipe out your fame, no rekindling Your shit stinks; the smell's lingering Pussyholes will get a fingering You're shook, stand still and your pockets still jingling I know you can't mingle in [Verse 2: D Double E] 'Cah no, you won't be able You will only be disabled Try to test the lyrically miracle You win? That will be a miracle Sore loser, wanna get physical Left in hospital's typical Bullet in the head from the nine minimal Quickly, easily, and simple Because you're not no Mission Impossible So stop going on like you're unstoppable If you think you're not probable You'll be the first to find out 'bout the pistol When your headtop get popped like pimple Headtop get rocked like cradle Part of the headtop not visible You better look into the mirror; it's a miracle [Verse 3: Footsie] I'm gonna whack you about Use my lyric book and smack you about Hit you with a sixteen bar to your mout' Or hit you with sixteen bars to your mout' And leave you with sixteen scars to your mout' Just cold, yeah, that's all blacked-out And the gat? Yeah, that's all blacked-out And I'll put it to your eye and then you're blacked-out Nah, you don't wanna run it when Footsie's about You can't chuck it when Footsie's about Get bare right hooks when Footsie's about Bare left hooks to your mout' Nah, you don't wanna run it when Footsie's about You can't chuck it when Footsie's about Get bare right hooks when Footsie's about Bare left hooks to your mout' [Verse 4: Monkey] Rudeboy, 'cause I'm ready for war; my troopers, I lead With a force just like a stampede My lyrics multiply like they breed I'm spitting words for you to breathe Lyrical army I'm gonna build You're gonna get killed on this lyrical battlefield Straight through your defence shield 'Cause I spit too skilled Nah, I'm no chef; for you, I don't cater When I touch mic, you're the spectator Spit raw, snap back like gator Run rings 'round man like the world's equator I said now who's the greater? Lyrics stick to your brain like data Don't understand? My nine mil' is my translator You impersonator [Verse 5: D Double E] I'm armed to the teeth, ready for the beef If you really wanna see your bredrin get deceased Draw for the piece, reminding me to fleece Turn his headpiece into a [?] piece Pure n****s on the road, they don't want a piece Don't really wanna go through all the grief What, you can't get touched? Is that your belief? My mandem specialise in beef Which bredrin's gonna back your beef? Four different man have got a piece to your cheek 'Cah what you believe in, you've got a cheek And because of that, a man will make you look weak Inside or outside on the street You don't wanna buck up with the wrong brehs this week You'll be left with a lump on your head like a Sikh And you'll be good food for mandem to eat [Verse 6: Footsie] And it's Foots, rudeboy Stop, think twice; take a look, rudeboy You wanna run up on my hooks, rudeboy So my fist [?] rudeboy If it's beef, it will get cooked, rudeboy You could never take man for a moot, rudeboy Chill and smoke your zoot, rudeboy I'll put holes in your new tracksuit, rudeboy Them old school methods? I'll use 'em Right hooks, left hooks? I'll use 'em Uppercuts, headbutts? I'll use 'em Knees to the nuts? I'll use 'em Them old school methods? I'll use 'em Right hooks, left hooks? I'll use 'em Uppercuts, headbutts? Yeah, I'll use Any jaw I see, yeah, I'll bruise [Verse 7: Monkey] I'm gonna do it all my way And decide to pop out the woodwork But before I'll leave, I'll give it a good murk Leave a few hurt Like an accident on the highway If you're not good then why say? Why act or why play? Why even try to spray? [Verse 8: D Double E] 'Cause you don't wanna start trouble with the Double The best thing for you is [?] to the Double Then hold your mouth shut and beware of the Double 'Cause you don't wanna touch mic, your man are in trouble Make an MC [?] Make a DJ drop his MCs for the Double 'Cause you can't find a better MC than the Double If you come against Double, rudeboy, you're gonna struggle [Verse 9: Footsie] I'll make my moves on ya Do a couple wrestling moves on ya I'll make my moves, do some wrestling moves With a clothesline leg drop, yeah, that's you I'll make my moves on ya Do a couple wrestling moves on ya I'll make my moves, do some wrestling moves With a clothesline leg drop, yeah, that's you [Outro: D Double E] Ooh