Funky Dee vs. Mischief Artist

Lyrics

Round 1 (beat produced by Lewi B) [Verse 1: Mischief Artist] Now it's round one, it's nuttin' but flows I'ma kill him with I don't wanna hear a man talk when I'm spinning him It's about to get cold, man's shivering Now we're live in the flesh, no Twittering My man's cool but he knows I'm different Unique's the flow, it's about time I kill him with it Watch me kill him with it, 'bout to get silly with it Oi, you, are you gonna win? I'm mimicking Oi, you, are you gonna shut up? Ain't Stormzy, but shut up Funky's dead, now you're on grime, blud, shut up All I wanna know, are you gonna? Are you gonna? Oi, you, are you gonna shut up? Ain't Stormzy, but shut up Funky's dead, now you're on grime, blud, shut up All I wanna know [Verse 2: Funky Dee] Walk up to him, slide-slide ⁣⁣ Hit you with the right-right ⁣⁣ New gen MCs⁣⁣ you, better know that grime's my house ⁣⁣ I got the code to the Wi-Fi ⁣⁣ Click-click, night-night, send you to the sky-sky ⁣⁣ Your friends won't ride-ride ⁣⁣ I punched your brother so hard⁣⁣ He span around like the Jackson 5-5 ⁣⁣ I make money from grime-grime ⁣⁣ You make money 'cause you work ⁣ Fake MCs, you get on my nerves ⁣⁣ Put you in the hearse⁣⁣ Oi, Jammer⁣⁣ I'm gonna scar him with third-degree burns ⁣⁣ Put you in the dirt with the worms ⁣ In grime, you are the worst⁣ [Verse 3: Mischief Artist] He keeps screaming "oi, you, are you gonna bang?" But wait, he ain't even a grime MC I'm a grime MC, you can't rhyme with me Watch how I kill him on this grimy beat I'm too cold so they're calling me I-C-E He's old news, no ITV Mill, mill? Shut up Tell me why is he crying, please? LOTM, man don't pretend So many waves, you'll drown in the deep end Please don't interrupt me when I'm preaching I'll beat the black off you like you're bleaching Wait, who's speaking? This is my space I ain't Tom, so who's peaking? Yeah, man's tweaking, Funky seems lost So it's only right that we teach him [Verse 4: Funky Dee] I swear this guy's weird ⁣⁣ He's from Borehamwood in Hertfordshire⁣⁣ He how can he send for me? ⁣⁣ He's from Borehamwood in Hertfordshire⁣⁣ He's never faced fears⁣⁣ He's from Borehamwood in Hertfordshire⁣⁣ His name's Jerome Pascall⁣⁣ From Borehamwood in Hertfordshire⁣⁣ He's from Borehamwood in Hertfordshire⁣⁣ What you know about going to a set⁣⁣ MCing with guns in the room?⁣⁣ You might hear the ting go boom⁣⁣ MC with your opps in the room ⁣⁣ Give me space, give me room⁣⁣ Put the stick in your face, no broom⁣⁣ This is real life shit, listen⁣⁣ This ain't no cartoon ⁣⁣ Gun fingers in your face ⁣⁣ I will tell you to your face you're a wasteman⁣⁣ You talk street, you've never been in a gang ⁣⁣ I'll do you worse than Kozzie did Sox ⁣⁣ I'll do you worse than Lay-Z did Marger⁣⁣ For the bread, I worked harder⁣⁣ Punch you in the face, then fuck your baby mudda⁣⁣ You could never be a grime kid⁣⁣ You could never be Chip or Ice Kid⁣⁣ Or Dot Rotten ⁣⁣ Your breath smells and ⁣⁣ You look old in the face like Dot Cotton ⁣⁣ I twiss and turn like Robben from Holland⁣⁣ After this clash⁣⁣ I'm gonna rob 'em [Verse 5: Mischief Artist] Yo, yo, would you look at this? All that talk on your timeline And now you've gotta actually clash me No more Twitter, blud, you can't @ me G-R-E-A-T but not Gatsby You can't B-E-A-T or clash me Leave man shaky, shaky, no Bambi You are D-E-A-D, it's that deep, I'm like It's on, Funky D von I don't wanna hear no funky house song Kill him on the riddim, he's gone Didn't wanna battle 'cause he knows it's long South side resident, should have sent Wong South side resident, should have sent Bearman Claim you're a grime MC, I'm like "where, man?" I'm waging war like Kim Jong-un [Verse 6: Funky Dee] Gonna do you so greazy⁣ I don't give a fuck if you roll with that guy⁣ From North Weezy⁣ I'll put you on my line till you feed me⁣ Your jaw will get spun like a CD⁣ Send your teeth out of space like E.T.⁣ Make your girls bow when they see me No Chaka Demus, they can't tease me, tease me Two fingers up your girl spinning In this clash, I'm winning⁣ Fingers are moving like I'm on Rinse FM mixing I put 1Xtra on her clit⁣ Move my head if she try kiss⁣ You ain't on the same mode to be like this ⁣ You can't flex or represent this⁣ You can have a screw face like Undertaker Bow, send you to your maker ⁣ Body laid flat like a manger⁣ Code name for revolver spinning⁣ Elimination chamber You can think you're bad like Brock Lesnar⁣ Gun will make you dance like a jester⁣ Could've bought a Lambo, I could've bought a Tesla⁣ Awooo⁣ On more arms than eczema⁣ Awooo⁣ Me nah ramp, me nah skin⁣ Me nah laugh, me nah grin ⁣ I'm hard to maintain⁣ When I put that .45 under your chin ⁣ I've been stabbed in my back⁣ I never smiled or grinned What? Round 2 (beat produced by Zeph Ellis) [Verse 1: Mischief Artist] This one is straight-up passion Let me break it down if you can't fathom My man told me that I was shit I put the work in and made this happen I ain't ever had no one by my side Shout out to Jammer for Lord of the Mics I've been grinding for so many years It's only now that I'm getting my shine See, I've been doing this ting so strategic I'm too sick like twins that's bulimic I'm not Chip Diddy Chip but trust, I swear down If I believe it, I will achieve it When I was firing shots, you were tweeting You should have kept quiet 'cah this is war season My man told me to put £1k up Now we're standing here, what an eediat [Verse 2: Funky Dee] Argggg, shit, I fucked up my line ⁣ Nah, you, you've got a fucked up life⁣ Wanna remix So Solid lines⁣ So I'm gonna show you that karma's a bitch, real life⁣ You got 21 seconds to go, bowww⁣ You got three seconds to live, wooow⁣ Look who's doing it⁣ Look who's doing it now⁣ Blud, you don't know me I'm the god of mischief like Loki⁣ I heard that you creep in your sister's room On a low key, shh⁣ Crept in her bed ⁣ And covered her mouth like shh, shh⁣ You're a nonce like R Kelly⁣ I got my info about you from Kelly ⁣ You're a fat shit, tuck in your belly ⁣ Why you think your time will never come?⁣ Why you think that you will never blow?⁣ Sickers was gassing him on up on the IG 'Cause I kicked him out of the grime scene⁣ Errr, nastyyyy⁣ Flow so mean⁣ You know what? You're a nobody [Verse 3: Mischief Artist] Lyrical ability, yeah, man are moving differently Make your girl spin round something like Billie Jean Nobody's spinning me, sharp like guillotine Man ah get cut if you think say me kidding, G Man's not [?], man's not soft So there's no way you're killing me I ain't Big Shaq, man's not hot Mortal Kombat, can't even finish me Yeah, man said it Dem man run out of credit Slowed it down so you get it But you man won't even get it Do you get it? Lef' it I'm a menace like Dennis Ace when I serve, no tennis Speed it up, man's gonna rev it [Verse 4: Funky Dee] Counter attack, counter attack ⁣ How did I know you was gonna say dat?⁣ Made around 100 racks on a track ⁣ You're still living in your mum's flat ⁣ I hit you with a Shaq attack ⁣ Errghhh⁣ 'Cause you're an eediat like dat ⁣ Oi Jammer, watch him get jacked ⁣ Wouldn't touch your girl with a bargepole⁣ Hit you wid the forearm like Swarvo⁣ All you do is remix flows⁣ You talk about trap, you ain't got a trap phone ⁣ Been around more traps than that kid from Home Alone ⁣ Ring ring⁣ That's my Nokia phone Serving food on the roads ⁣ You know I do dirt on the roads⁣ Clart man down with the pole (kooong, kooong)⁣ Clart man down with a pole ⁣ Clart man down in a car You know I do dirt on the roads⁣ Clart man down with the pole (kooong, kooong)⁣ Clart man down with a pole ⁣ Clart man down in a car [Verse 5: Mischief Artist] Certain man have got cold feet, I don't really know why you phoned me Stop saying Jammer don't know me Blud, I've been grafting, the progress is coming on slowly So stop tryna act like you're Roll Deep This bredda cyaan done me, eaten all the pies, I'm hungry I could [?] Funky But now I'm on fuckery, Twitter fingers can't touch me I'ma do you how Chip did Bugzy Nah, I'ma do you how Chip did Yungen Shut up, you don't really want that problem Back to back on any stage, I'll done him I'm not the one? Yeah, you must have been bugging I'm not the one? Trust me, I'll son him Watch me play dirty, he ain't on nothing My man's gonna go mad in the third round When he hears me bun him [Verse 6: Funky Dee] Dot-dot, what dot-dot? Eastender with the dot-dot So rotten with the dot-dot, aim at your top-top You will drop-drop, so nasty with the dot dot It's F dot U dot N dot K dot Resurrect K Dot North d-dot, d-dot South d-dot, d-dot East d-dot, d-dot, West d-dot, d-dot Anywhere I spray the dot, d-dot Red top, no spot Trigger finger got the chickenpox Look, I'll put you in a box Flowers spelling your name on top It's Frazier with a box Make dough from crops Round 3 (beat produced by Treble Clef) [Verse 1: Mischief Artist] Yo, listen, yo, it's round three, let me get him He's been talking for a second I've killed him with flows and I've killed him with passion Now I'm gonna bun him with venom He thinks it's a joke, listen clear: I ain't laughing This right here is a warning Tell them the truth You didn't wanna go back-to-back with me when I'm barring He called my phone After everything was already set up Started talking about He was the reason that I was getting this clash on Lord of the Mics But blud, let me tell you I am a lord of the mics in my own right So even if you take me off of this DVD I'ma still stand tall in this music scene Best believe, ain't nobody blocking my dream Especially not Funky Dee I could never let a funky house MC Try take me for a chief Blud, what have you done? One song, one-hit wonder Are you gonna bang? Shut up You have never been grime, it's about to get nasty Tell my man what the bumba? Yo, my man keeps on saying I'm deluded I'm gonna break down to you what the truth is You thought I was just some any MC but Realised I'm raised on grime and I do this You had to change your name, deluded Went from Firmer Dee to Funky Dee-luded You wanna act and claim like you're big in the scene Stop running from the bars and prove it [Verse 2: Funky Dee] Big pimpin' like Pimp C My ex, she wan' link me I was getting letters from cooch In jail, sipping Hooch Wing looking like a movie I pray my bro don't go juvie I move brown and white, Angelica and Susie Everything I spit, I spit truly My head's gone, I'm kinda loopy I get so much groupies I eff them up I make their pussy pink like Snoochie A hundred spinning on a rouly Spent 5k on the studi' I hunt for the treasure like a goonie This is real life, it ain't no cartoon I chinged a man's back like there weren't no thing I chinged a man's back like there weren't no sin I chinged a man's back like there weren't no bin Couldn't give a fuck about gym Spent two bags on the hand ting Spent 3-4 on a mad ting Pulled it back like your hamstring Let off 4-5 on a gang ting When I MC, I MC with my eyes closed I call my strap sky dome I spent seven bills on an iPhone You know my pattern Spent three bags on a chain in Hatton Spent two bags at a bar in Clapham Spent one bag on a car in Chatham Look, I splashed on waps on a Monday Went opp block on a Tuesday All blacked out like Wednesday Peng ting throw it back like a Thursday Met her on Friday She's a groupie, no Saturday Doing crazy things in the park Like goth on a Sunday [Verse 3: Mischief Artist] Yo, yo, reality check You've never been rated in grime, you're a funky guy Reality is After "Are You Gonna Bang?", blud, you ain't done shit Reality check You think that you're bigger than you are But reality is You could've never murked me in this clash But now I'm gonna thank you, why? 'Cause you done everything I knew you would I called you out knowing you'd respond to it It's a checkmate, let me spill the book The first track, I never mixed down to get your attention Dickhead, yeah, you fell for it The second track was to show you that my work rate is crazy And I'ma bring hell with it My man said he ain't feeling my bars Well, guess what? I'ma get braille with it If this pussyhole pulled out a strap right now Bet it wouldn't have shells in it Yeah, you went jail, innit? You were behind bars, innit? Oi, blud, stop tryna big up your chest in this clash 'Cause you ain't got half, innit I'm like after the second diss He tried say I'm not doing it properly No video, you've got me... nah That's what I made him believe 'Cause I gave him three years and left man holey Just like the three wise kings He ain't better with the bars or better than me, darg Let me show you what true grime means [Verse 4: Funky Dee] X Dark on the mic, spark any man, X Like Maner, Thor with the hammer, pum pum slammer Two lighties, Shola, Sadie Ama Never go broke like Glamma Tinted banger, X X, X, Vin Diesel X Arghhhh, like DMX Give man a suplex, aim at heads X, X, on a BMX Clap at your chest Wheelchair you, Professor X Aim at heads Scream who's next, don't get vex Grimy, never bang a girl on her reds Look so hench, never take steds Suck it, D, generation X, X X Kids in da Hood just like Vortex Shooting at a shoot like Vertex Don't get vex 'cause I beat your ex Samuel Peter voice: who's next? Left you on the deck, Dubplate Mex Where was you When I was getting reloads at Stratford Rex? Where was you, you? When I got seven reloads at Club Flex I've got new money, Leon and Lex I went jail but I didn't do reps Wrote new bars so I could rep on sets X, X, X Dark on the mic, spark any man, X Dark on the mic, spark any man, X [Verse 5: Mischief Artist] I got a call from Jammer saying "No mentioning mums" At the cypher, he mentioned my mum Wait Ergh Nah I was just waiting for the best part of the beat to Tell you, rudeboy, that you're not bad A son of a whore, what, me? Are you mad? You're gonna be some cabaret act Tim Westwood done [?] already but I don't wanna hear man act like he's bad You went jail for someone else's strap But guess what, fam, you didn't bang I did my homework And look at his face, he's overly mad Wait, you can't fuck with me I've got bars and I'll kill you off comfortably I'll put two straps over your shoulders, blud But I ain't talking dungarees It's all in honour of Crazy T I really can't stand these fake MCs These wack MCs, crap MCs, and I Don't really wanna have to slap MCs, look Don't think I won't 'cause I will I don't like your blood but mill So mill, mill, mill Dressed in yellow, I'm here to kill Bill, it's not Funky Dee, it's Chunky Dee He's been eating too much bun and cheese Let's go lyric for lyric, it's all fun to me Got him sitting on the wall, call him Humpty Dee [Verse 6: Funky Dee] The opps are on me But I treat 'em like a rich man giving out drinks at a bar 'Cause the shots are from me Shotty on my leg, if I get stopped by the feds On my ends, I'll turn them cops to zombies No Grizzy, move from me (move, move) You know I got the power (hmm) See me moving like Tommy You should've seen the barrel of my stick What did it look like? It looked like a barrel of a stick Both hands on iron for a snitch I'll do you worse than Alpo did Mitch You little bitch I'll make you get shook like Tales of the Crypt End of the war, final conflict Hit a pagan with a pump Like Craig's dad, I'm clapping on grapes when I dump My gun's so big (how big?) It's big like an elephant's trunk In '03, I rolled with a sword like trunks .45 with the pump pu-pump pu-pump Can't believe that I missed when I tried to slump Look, you should've seen the hole in the wall (What did it look like?) It looked like a hole in the wall Art of War, there ain't no rules Wanna steal bare flows, you effing fool I'll buss ya head with a stool I'll buss ya head with a flying tool Pussy