Devilman - On dis ting lyrics

Yo Skepta, don't talk sh**, are you crazy? You can't come to my area 2015's got scarier f** off with your malaria Don't talk sh** about me and my situation With your bullsh** instigation The informing allegation Got sorted so if you're gonna send for me If you're gonna say something, send for me properly Saying sh** everybody knows already You took my flows already And I heard that he said em at 100 shows already You're lucky that Dizzle Kid never bust your nose already I heard your send, you say that I'm nasty but Everybody knows already I'm a dirty ba*tard, go and ask Jenny Wanna talk about man showing face in my video But yet still he don't wanna show yours Why do you wanna see my people's face? What the f** do you get up to behind closed doors? You sound worse than you did years ago A rematch in a clash, I'll murk you bro Murk you on drum and ba** or murk you slow f** Skepta, look at this turkey though Leave a man with metal in jaws I'm gonna keep settling scores Skepta's pissed off cause I sold him a halfers of cheese and he could only make four draws Go on then, give me a round of applause [?] ni hao, wun sen pars I'm sure that most of the time you spit You always use my bars, not yours Yo blud, what do you think this thing is? This ain't 2005 I don't give a f** what plane that you fly Might get something aimed at your eye You ain't the microphone champion, that's a straight up lie It's the [?] You know that's I What you doing with them USA guys? Transs**uals and bis Every other day, somebody dies But today, Skepta's funeral Leave a man's body in a cubicle We all know that you don't wanna clash So you try to bring up the past, but it's not gonna last Get your head smashed through the gla** Now here's a little blast from the past Everybody knows I'm like no other Already murked off you and your brother Lord of the Mics 2, if I was with my man dem You would've hid under the cover Jammer told me not to bring no one Cause he heard stuff about 0121 You don't know any serious dons in my ends You haven't got a clue, don You're only a vet by time You're a popstar, you ain't a vet by grime You've got a feature off Birmingham man But you've still never brought them through, that's fine Don't worry, I'm gonna get my shine Your send was sh**, you sound like you're losing it Oi Skepta, I'm not gonna lie, I respect ya But your future, I'm choosing it OK then, come with the next flow 20 bags, Lord of the Mics, yeah, let's go I've got the jet flow, please don't get upset, bro You don't want it on a set though Let go, I'll push something in your neck slow Murk it, want bashment, grime or techno? Think you could ever murk me? Heck no Straight up, no indirect, bro