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Open up your bedroom door Let your mum hear this Introduce her to the music Yeah (Dem way there, I wear my own garms) (Man see me on road, and want arms) (Tell them shut your mouth, there's no qualms) (Tell them shut your mouth, there's no qualms) Tell them shut your mouth, you're not bad No, you can't son me, never ever lost in a clash, you're mad Try to diss me on my family tree, alright, we could go dad for a dad (Oi, Skepta, why you murkin' so many MCs?) 'Cause they don't know about grease I was really in the field with the G's We were dissin' out waps on trees My first wap 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 recognise, real recognise, real recognise, real recognise real)l) (I'm so real) they recognise me in Winch more Hill Primrose Hill, Brixton Hill You're not a bad boy, and I'ma die on that hill 'Bouta show why man recognise me 'cause (Real recognise, real recognise, real recognise, real recognise real) (I'm so real) they recognise me on wave and trap They recognise me on grime and drill You not a bad boy, and I'ma die on that hill Allow it, man I wanna get my bar out, man Nah, I wanna get my bars out, please No more wheel-ups, 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 MCs Bettin' me money, they won't test me again Before I did fit pics, I been a lyricist Had to make 'em put some respect on my name (Like, oi, Skepta, why you murkin' so many MCs?) 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, blud, say word I went to your ends, that's not what I heard (Dem way 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 drillers, you not cons (Tell them shut your mouth, there's no qualms) (Tell them shut your mouth, there's no qualms) Talkin' 'bout crashin' out, you're not Swarmz Real recognise real, dem boy do me no harm (The nurse that brought me will recognise me when I'm 40, like, I'm so real) From Australia, all the way to Brazil, I got fans sayin' I'm the G.O.A.T. still Don't come to my show if you're tryna be cool and chill Your drink might spill, end up in the mosh pit, hands in your grill Flow so sick, you might need a NyQuil (Real recognise, real recognise, real recognise, real recognise real) (I'm so real) they recognise me in Winch more Hill Primrose Hill, Brixton Hill You're not a bad boy, and I'ma die on that hill 'Bouta show why man recognise me 'cause (Real recognise, real recognise, real recognise, real recognise real) (I'm so real) they recognise me on wave and trap They recognise me on grime and drill Go on then, go on then, go on then Skepta or slash bad man Tim All day long, grind, don't get twisted You see two decks in the mix off I see the bigger picture, don't test me