96 Bars of Jme

Lyrics

[Intro] Hold tight the Grime Reaper on productions, yeah Big up my mum, my dad, my brother, my sister, Skepta Serious Hold tight Wiley, Boy Better Know Jme [Verse] See, I got bare labels phoning me, but Cash point ain't showing me no love Everyone's got my tunes on their phone And the CD in their PC at home Is packed with all the tunes that I've done But my wallet ain't saying one You think I'm making mad P You're right, my money is angry with me It took me five years to get ten A to C's But in five days, I get ten AC's Somebody out there please tell me What I'ma do with my uni degree I don't want a job, blud, I swear down, I just wanna be a big MC Or something along them lines, swear on my life, music means so much to me Getting a degree to me is like a plan B It will mean so much to my family But understand me JavaScript, makes me wanna swear like Plan B I know it'll come in handy I stick with it, even when I get angry And I'm not on my own, I got a brother in this music game like Brandy He knows how much music means to me We're just trying to make money legally I know guys that'll creep in your house, go upstairs, open a safe and steal a G That sounds like quick P to me But still, I travel on C2C And WAGN, and Silverlink, everything's not what it seems to be You think I'm stupid, move on Stereotype me, I'll prove you wrong Ask anybody that knew me ages ago, they'll say I had my head screwed on "Yeah, Jamie, that guy, he's cool Trust me, blud, he went to my school He made me a ringtone once, it was like Eskimo mixed into old school" To this day, still ain't changed Jme, music in his veins Same face, same deranged Thoughts coming through the speaker each day Mum still shouting, "Turn down the bass" Bredrens lounging around the place I don't smoke, but my room's smoked out, can't see my hand in front of my face As if I'm in a time capsule My pockets are still filled with shrapnel Only difference is some of it's Euros I've been travelling, capital to capital I've been 'nough countries, I swear, one day I'ma write them all down If you turn the clock back two years, I don't think I'd have even left town But still, I used to make hits, I was blessed with a lyrical art The other MCs, they weren't shit, but they come like lyrical farts And they stunk, I used to hate them See, nowadays, I rate them Not 'cause I think that they're down But for simply sticking around The bars I write, they're like Red Bull Trust, blud, I got a whole shed full Yeah, sometimes I can be a hothead, but, more time, my head's cool When I'm a hothead, I don't get lyrical I get serious, lyrically physical I start shouting stuff like, "Derkhead," and people think it's really cool In the MC rank, I'm a piss take Yeah, blud, I'm way before fifth place Jme, everyone saw his face See, now I've got about four mixtapes Trust me, I know you're playing 'em And all of my lyrics, you're saying 'em Even your girl says, "Shh hut yuh muh," there's no escaping, it's blatant Yo, blud, man better know No one test with the dibby-dibby flow Flow 'round here on the mic, I'm a pro Professional in the game and you know All this war and clash is trash I'll make a tune or bore some gash Don't get rude, I said, don't get rude or I will singe your 'tache Yo, blud, stand over there Dare you attempt to swear Swear down, I'll burn your ear 'Ear what, blud, you know, I don't even care All this push out your chest is late I did that in 1998 Don't get rude (Blood, I said), don't get rude or I'll phlegm in your face [Outro] Jme Derkhead, edition three