Grime-a-Side 2017 Semi-Final: Bristol vs. Manchester

Lyrics

First Half [Intro: Jay0117] Yeah Red Bull Semi Finals Bris' to the world Yeah, yeah Come on Now I gotta Now I gotta [Verse 1: Jay0117] Now I gotta clash man again, that's awfully long These man take hits, not toking the bong XP, please admit that you're ginger Stop telling gyal you're strawberry blond Or auburn, all your mumzys should've had abortions Just take that as a caution Fiascoo said that his family's schitz I guess you're better off an orphan Done with the talking, bruddah, just forfeit You're fat, you're ginger and you're shit Man ah get slapped for thinking that you're sick That's crack you sprinkle in your spliff So if it's war, know that I'm involved Should've sent Bugzy Malone or Chimpo Could've sent Liam or Noel, gingers don't have souls So you really can't win, bro [Verse 2: XP] I make man in a rave flash lighters Them man stand in the rave, drink ciders Three little farmers chatting 'bout violence Nobody round here thinks you're riders Big man ting when I touch West Country Tune with Jakes, got a tune with Buggsy Eskimo Dance, backstage comfy Didn't see you man once, that's fuckery Don't even know man, still gotta diss them Make man dive on the floor like Klinsmann Can't forget my bars like who? Man can't forget my bars like Dimpson X on mic, not bad for a ginger Press your girl, like Bash, I'm a sinner Murk MCs, that's what I'm inna How you gonna jump in a clash with a winner? You're a pussy [Verse 3: RagoLoco] Dead man time First, Jay0117 Little loner, no one don't bell him You talk 'bout line in country Must be the money you're selling 'Cause all the drugs you're tekking Coke and gack got you cold sweating Bun some trees, try bunning cheese And you think you're repping? And you two I'mma call you Miss The Drop and Flop Big men but you still get sent shop Sidemen, coleslaw, corn on the cob You're not mic men, you're just knobs Rhyming but your timing is off You be the reason Bristol lost Double your score because you're washed [Verse 4: Double] Yeah, I spin guys, lift guys, who are these guys? Clothesline XP in his windpipe XP, try get silly and bright Get slumped in the ring like Dillian Whyte No iPhone, no flipping up rhymes Spin this guy like a million times XP looks like the kind of wise guy That I serve in the flat for a [?] white Ragzy looks like a wannabe dyke Ragzy looks like he's getting outshined RagzLoco, Ragz or RagzFari Ragz, fam, you look like you're bunning on spice Dem boy don't wan' tek it outside Fiascoo, he's got a funny hairline Dem boy looking like the feminine type Probably wear G-string, legging and tights [Verse 5: Fiascoo] Red Bull I thought this was supposed to be three-against-threes They've got one, two, three, four, five Like eleven MCs Jay, I think Dimpson He ate all your garlic bread and your cheese The workers know him on first-name terms At KFC and McD's When Jesus fed the five thousand You're so glad that you weren't there And when you die You're fucked 'cause there ain't any room up there Jay, when you say "wah gwan" You do know that that comes from yard? But you know that you come from farm You just look like Nutty Professor [Verse 6: Dimpson] Loco, tell a boy go home You can hold two-two straps in your throathole That's not a German whip, that's a Volvo Heard XP's in love with the coco Now let me move straight onto Fiascoo Taken two bills and straight [?] I can't believe you got past Glasgow Send Manny back with a chain in your asshole So, sit down when I'm teaching the class There ain't no way you'll leave with a pass You're gassed like e-on, know when I see one Us man are P1, you man are [?] So, fuck your city, fuck Manchester You was outside tryna beg for a [?] XP, you look like a police inspector Us man are R1's, you man are Vespas, yeah Second Half [Verse 7: XP] XP, I'm a Lord of the Mic Jay, I'll break your jaw with the mic You're not bad, you're on a hype Your dad's smoking raw in a pipe Bristol man don't hold no guns They know me, I don't know those bums Dun talkin' like Kojo Funds Go home, suck all three of your mums Yeah, 'bout 017 I'll punch your head in, come through shelling Might shank man up, there's no telling My man's wack, Dimpson's shegging Jump in the war, get clarted, standard Big time forward, darg, step backwards Best go back to your farm and tractors Man are OT like Marcus Rashford Bazz, bazz, bazz [Verse 8: Jay0117] When I heard "Manny man" I thought I was clashing Shifty Soon as Red Bull turned on the lights XP started banging on Factor 50 Get back to the shade 'cause your back's peeling You man love crack and you lack eating Fiascoo's a paranoid schizo, more than a bit slow That's why your dad's leaving I might just leave him alone He's already told Snooch that he's a fan of me If Fiascoo really wanna war You better be sure I'll go schitz like your family After the clash, might ram Loco in the boot And drive man right back to the gallery XP's gyal loves bunning on food When I say food, not chatting 'bout calories, murked [Verse 9: RagoLoco] This prick can't diss Rags I've got your wife licking on my ballbag I just get hench and you tend to shag "Ayy, Julie, get a couple of cans, you slag" She ain't boujee or bad Got you on curfew like you're on tag Bloody pussy, call you Tampax You two should've stayed in your gaff But this fat Sambo came for the free Nando's Damn craving And you should change your occupation Shittest MC in the nation Sound like special education Got problems with immigrations So you're gonna get sent back With your backpack full of humiliation [Verse 10: Double] This time round, let me start with the captain And let me start up a mad ting, Fiascoo's a has-been Even [?] had you planking This Red Bull clash, he's going in a casket Likkle dead MC Fuck this nigga and fuck XP XP looking like he injects speed While Ragzy's looking like a fake Prez T You three don't rep your ends properly Your hairline's in a next country Fiascoo's looking all stiff and stuck in his tracksuit Looking like a sted MC Like Footsie, they don't wanna war with me Come up on your ends, catch corn and leave Dem man don't wanna hear stories Dem man really are boring, G [Verse 11: Fiascoo] Bristol I'm so glad that you all shown up And you've brought on the fat kid from Boyz N the Hood But now he looks all grown up Jay, before you start bringing it up Yeah, I am a little nuts But your girl's still in my DMs Saying us black boys, we've got the bigger nuts First time that you met her You was blazing a zoot [?] Pull down her knickers, she pulled out your pecker You decided to lick her She gave you a dick measure And she said the zoot was all thicker So, she belled Dimpson And he said he'll be round right after his dinner [Verse 12: Dimpson] And it's D-I-M What you know about D-I-M? I'm a real mic man, let me tell them again Sent Manny straight back to the Stretford end and it's D-I I don't know about these guys You don't know about D-I Loco's looking all de-hyped So I control that, snap your neck You back so bad, get a slap to the neck When I spit bars, better have some respect Come back for the sesh And I don't wanna hear no talk about Grim You'll get headbutts just like him Talking 'bout burst, bussing the ting Don't you think that you ain't gonna win? [Outro: Jay0117 & RagoLoco] Manny, win, vote It's all mad You're going home, you're going home, you're going Bristol, yeah Bristol's going home, going home, you're going home, you're going Allow all that bullshit talk Bristol's going home Bristol to the world 0161 Don't listen to no wasteman RagoLoco, man