Old School - JME

Yo Jamie

Yo, yo rudeboy

Ayo rudeboy, come here, blud

Oi, come here, oi, yo, stop

Come here, star

Ayy, ayy blud, come here blud

Don’t want… come here!

Shut ya mout, rudeboy, allow the hype

Chatting shit, put down the mic

See, in two years, you’re gonna pull out the pipe

Send for the rocks, pull out the light

If I was you, I would sit down tonight

Read them bars you decide to write

And think carefully before

I put my dutty lips around the mic

What?

Check out the sweat on my neck

I’m Lord of the Mic and Lord of the Deck

Not no wasted yout from the bits

I can MC, produce and mix

Nah, fam, I won’t diss you

Let’s not make this an issue

'Cause really nobody would miss you

If your dad would’ve put you in a tissue

I’ve got two GUESS watches

You think that’s P?

Guess what is

Round my neck, if my chest hot, it

Cools me down like a vest top

Nah, you won’t see me with no red blotches

On my chest, near my breast pocket

What you thought you saw, I guess not, it’s

My pendant that will blind out your eye

Yo, blud, don’t get rude

Rudeboy, warning you

You know that I don’t normally slew

Slew me, that’ll be the end of you

All this badboy talk is nothing

You’ve got a stiff face like you wanna say something

Don’t get rude, I said don’t get rude

I will start uppercutting

You better mind out that I don’t

Bounce your head twice and dunk it in a basket

Try jack Jme’s flow, jack Jme’s lyrics

And then try to mask it

You’re baiter than a rasta man

With fourteen tenses

Your style will go dry

Quicker than contact lenses

I write lyrics, if you take offence

You can go to your garden and take a fence

And knock yourself out, but if we’re friends

Ring me, it’s only thirty pence

Or you can take it upon yourself

To go home and write one yourself

But you’re so swag

That you’ll probably write a bar like this

«Jme, you shout too loud

Jme, put the mic down

Jme, you just ain’t cutting it

If I see your face, I’m headbutting it

Jme, you think you’re serious

Jme, you’re nowhere near it

Jme, you think you’re sick

But you’re any durag prick»

While you were writing one-liners

I was on road shotting one-liners

Not flames, couldn’t be seen on the roads

Blacked-out like a limousine on the roads

What?

I wear black clothes when I’m here

Nobody even knows when I’m here

I only wrote this lyric to show

I’m the master of the one-line flows

Beat you up!

Yeah, yeah, everybody knows

You’re some goody-goody, yeah, everybody knows

I hear you say Boy Better Know

But you ain’t got the energy, Boy Better Know!

From day one, yeah, that’s me

AIR VENT IN YOUR CREP!

Yeah, that’s me

I’m the master of the one-line flows

I can proudly say that I’ve got one of those

You better mind out that I don’t

Bounce your head twice and dunk it in a basket

Try jack Jme’s flow, jack Jme’s lyrics

And then try to mask it

You’re baiter than a rasta man

With fourteen tenses

Your style will go dry

Quicker than contact lenses