Pedigree

(álbum: What We Almost Made - 2008)

[Verse 1:]
Yo, yo, what?
My rapping pedigree you'll never be, I'm steadily growing
You can hear it when I'm flowing, so can I so why you telling me?
Say I'm one of God's heavenly creatures, big facial features
I'm flowing like some pensioners with broken urethras
They're having a stress, see I'm pissing out these lyrics like my bladder's a mess
And you had to confess, yes, you're very impressed
"He's the finest Elliot since Eliot Ness"
And you'd never have guessed that I'd be one of the fighters
Surprises to rise from a scene where they don't pay attention to guys
Who ain't living a crisis or been running advice
Almost gave up cause I felt like I needed a license or something to rap
Then I realised there's guys who've been shot who were crap
When it comes to performing, I'm storming your stage
With the rage of a bear that's escaped from its cage
And ignoring the pricks that just moan, throwing sticks and the stones
Who just sit there at home and assume that a label will call em, applaud em
Arrive on their doorstep and sign them and shit
It takes pure hard graft, mate, you're having a laugh and a half
So have a bath, Herbal Essence your mindset
Polish your rhymes, yep, you're lacking in style
Me? I'm sticking out my neck like a fucking giraffe

[Hook x2:]
I'm just rapping for the sake of it, what you make of it?
Usually I try and make a hit, so now you think I'm making shit?
Maybe it's the fact you're simply thinking fucking hell
It's a song about nothing, still he does it fucking well

[Verse 2:]
Everybody looking for a piece of the pie
But the pie said goodbye and I'll be fighting for scraps
So I tightened the straps on my belt, hit the tarmac
Finished the last lap, my very first season in rap
There's reason to clap in the time that's elapsed
I've been haps but I still ain't achieved what I wanted so back
To the lab for a snack cause like Andy McNab
There's more raw stories to tell
Go the distance like Phileas Fogg
Rapping back of the net shit like I'm Didier Drog
And in the silliest fog, you still see me coming
Get attention, like Lily Allen's MySpace blog
I'm chatting still, rapping ill, packing skills
Bring the party like a bag of pills
Standing on top of the hill
Never tumbling down like Jack and Jill or a wagon wheel
Spitting fire, you could say I know how a dragon feels
Twenty quid eBay, my mixtape shifts for the kids
And it ain't even mixed by a DJ
Better with age, it's a fact bro
You've gotten worse over the years like Westwood's rap show
Put a finishing touch like who does the peaches
You can't reach this, I'm top shelf material
Deary, oh, deary old me
Cheerio to the old lot, hallo EG

[Hook x2]