Back 2 Back (feat. Fred again..)

Skepta

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    Open up your bedroom door
    Let your mum hear this
    Introduce her to the music, yeah

    (Stand right there, I wear my own garm's)
    (Man see me on road, and want arms)
    (Tell them shut your [?], this not [?])
    (Tell them shut your [?], this not [?])
    Tell them shut your [?], you're not bad
    No, you can't son me, never ever lost in a clash, you're mad
    Try diss me on my family tree, alright we could go dad for a dad
    (Like Skepta, why you rockin' so many MC's?)
    'Cause they don't know about greaze
    I was really in the field with the G's
    We were dissin' out wax on trees
    My first wack came in a boxin' glove
    Got my second one for some weed and P's
    Why lie? Tell me the reason, please
    That ain't gon' impress me 'cause-

    (Real recognize real recognize real recognize real recognize real, I'm so real)
    The recognize me in Winchmore Hill
    Primrose Hill, Brixton Hill
    You not a bad boy, and I'ma die on that hill
    'Boutta show why a man recognize me 'cause
    (Real recognize real recognize real recognize real recognize real, I'm so real)
    They recognize me on wave and trap
    They recognize me on grime and drill
    You not a bad boy, and I'ma die on that hill

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    Allow it, man
    I wanna get my bar off, man
    No, I wanna get my bars out, please, no more wait up, man
    Please, man

    Young SK, I was goin' insane
    To go radio I had to walk in the rain
    Tell me what you know about surf in the train?
    No illogical thinkin', had stress on the brain
    One time I had to murk eight MC's
    Bettin' me money, they won't test me again
    Before I did fit pic's, I been a lyricist
    Had to make 'em put some respect on my name
    (Like Skepta, why you rockin' so many MC's?)
    That was the word on the curb
    I don't bend so how can I get curved?
    Private jet, I was flyin' with your bird
    Every other lyric you're talkin' about guns
    Man, you ain't got straps, stop lyin', you're a nerd
    Said you was a bad boy, blood, say word
    I went to your ends, that's not what I heard
    (Stand right there, I wear my own garms)
    (Man see me on road, and want arms)
    I still got step on my 1's, I'm so calm
    You talkin' like you know the jewelers, you don't [?]
    (Tell them shut your [?], this not [?])
    (Tell them shut your [?], this not [?])
    Talkin' 'bout crashin' out, you're not Swarmz
    Real recognize real, the way it do me no harm
    (So notice, that's brought me, will recognize me when I'm forty, like, I'm so real)
    From Australia, all the way to Brazil, I got fans sayin' I'm the GOAT, still
    Don't come to my show if you're tryna be cool and chill
    Your drink might spill, end up in the moshpit, hands in your grill
    Flow so sick, you might need a NyQuil

    (Real recognize real recognize real recognize real recognize real, I'm so real)
    The recognize me in Winchmore Hill
    Primrose Hill, Brixton Hill
    You not a bad boy, and I'ma die on that hill
    'Boutta show why a man recognize me 'cause
    (Real recognize real recognize real recognize real recognize real, I'm so real)
    They recognize me on wave and trap
    They recognize me on grime and drill

    Go on then
    Go on then, go on then
    No more

    Información de la canción

    Composición: Skepta, Fred Gibson y Peter Michael Livingstone

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