More songs by Skepta
More songs by Fred again..
Description
The room is filled with rowdy energy - loud, confident, but with a trademark smirk. It's not about “being a bad boy,” but about how easy it is to put everything in its place: your clothes, your words, your truth. The beats pound like a train in a tunnel, and the flow jumps from street bravado to an almost manifesto about survival and respect.
This isn't a fight, but rather a demonstration of who's been in the game for a long time and who's still putting on a mask. And even if beer spills in the hall and a mosh pit starts, the atmosphere is still more about laughter and recognition: the real attracts the real.
Lyrics and translation
Original
Open up your bedroom door.
Let your mum hear this.
Introduce her to the music.
Yeah.
Dem ain't there, I wear my own garms. Man see me on road and want arms.
Tell them, "Shut your mouth, there's no garms. " Tell them, "Shut your mouth, there's no garms. "
Tell them, "Shut your mouth, you're not bad. " No, you can't son me, never ever lost in the clash, you're mad.
Try diss me or my family tree, all right, we can go dad for dad.
-Skepta, why you murking so many MCs? -'Cause they don't know about Greeez.
I was really in the field with the G's. We were testing out waps on trees.
My first wap came in a boxing glove. Got my second one for some weed and P's.
Why, like, tell me the reason, please. That ain't gonna impress me 'cause. . .
Real recognize real, recognize real, recognize real, recognize real. I'm so real. They recognize me in
Wigmore Hill, Primrose Hill, Brixton Hill.
You're not a bad boy and I'm a down that hill, but the shower 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're not a bad boy and I'm a down that hill.
Love it, man.
I wanna get my bars out, man. No, I wanna get my bars out.
Please, roll my weed up, man. Please, man.
Young SK, I was going insane. To go radio, I had to walk in the rain.
Tell me what you know about surfing the train. No logical thinking, had stress on the brain.
One time I had to murk eight MCs, bet any money they won't test me again.
Before I did fit pics, I've been a lyricist. Had to make them put some respect on my name.
-Ay, Skepta, why you murking so many MCs? -That was the word on the curb.
I don't bend, so how can I get curved? Private jet, I was flying with Jabird.
Every other lyric you're talking about gun, man, you ain't got straps, stop lying, you're a nerd. Said you was a bad boy, blood, say word. I went to your ends, that's no lie.
Dem ain't there, I wear my own garms. Man see me on road and want arms.
I still gotta step on my ones, I'm so calm.
You're talking like you know the drillers, you're not puns. Tell them, "Shut your mouth, there's no garms.
" Tell them, "Shut your mouth, there's no garms.
" Talking 'bout crashing out, you're not swarms. Real recognize real, dem boy do me no harm.
The nurse that brought me will recognize me when I'm 40, like. . .
I'm so real.
From Australia all the way to Brazil, I got fans saying I'm the GOAT still.
Don't come to my show if you're tryna be cool and chill, or your drink might spill. End up in the mosh pit, 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.
They recognize me in Wigmore Hill, Primrose Hill, Brixton Hill.
You're not a bad boy and I'm a down that hill, but the shower 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.
Skepta forward slash badman ting. All day long, grind, don't get twisted.
You see two decks and a mixer, but I see the bigger picture. Don't test me.