R U Dumb? - Wiley, Tempa T, Cookie

You think you’re a badman to the fullest

Cause you got a couple of shotbun gullets

Don’t run it up and make me get dark

Cause I will chief you up in the par cark

Tell your girlfriend to leave me alone

Stop ringing my phobile mone

Serious, it’s getting on top

Jeez, can’t even shop to the bops

I’m slim but I ain’t got anorexia

I spit like I’ve got dyslexia

You don’t want to make me get vexed

Or you’ll find out about my tourettes

Boy Better Know

Don’t mess with Skepta, my bro

My family, Joseph Junior

My name’s Jamie Adenu-

Shh hut yuh muh

Derkhead, wasteman, poomplex

I don’t know what you’re thinking

But it’s not a me-and-you-spitting-in-the-same-room flex

When I enter, you exit, cah

You said shit 'bout me and Skepta

See, now shit can’t be perfect, cah

You let the situation get complex

Shh hut yuh muh

Derkhead, wasteman, poomplex

I don’t know what you’re thinking

But it’s not a me-and-you-spitting-in-the-same-room flex

When I enter, you exit, cah

You said shit 'bout me and Skepta

See, now shit can’t be perfect, cah

You let the situation get complex

Yo, yo, well everything seems clearer

Seems like Eskiboy is the key bearer

You on my level?

No you ain’t getting any closer

Than last time I checked you’re getting nearer, blud

I can’t hear ya, your best friends

Can’t compare ya, when I’m 'ere, come out the area

How dare ya, ya getting bright

Might get a couple shots in your new Porsche Carrera

Yep, yep, yep, I eat lamb curry and roti

I’m a war MC, they can all quote me

And I might punch you in the boaty

When you get up everything seems floaty

I guess you wanna find me but I move low key

In your house with no key, climb through the window

You know me, my name’s Wiley

Yeah I’m that brere with a goatie

You and your boys came round and thought you could fold me

I’m from a city, not Holby

Who’s this chavvy looking brere?

He looks like Jan Mølby

It sounds like he’s talking in Dolby

Telling me he’s gonna leave my t-shirt holey

Wasteman, he can’t test Wiley Coyote

If it’s the last thing I’ll do I’ll revenge

Anybody that tries to stop me or hold me

It’s the downtown boy

Drop boys to the floor then I stamp down boys

Boys get boyed, oh boy

I’m not a boy, I make big boys look smaller

Downtown baller, clamp down boys

Drop boys to the floor then I stamp down boys

Boys get boyed, oh boy

I’m not a boy, I make big boys, look

I’m in and around the bits, see me around the strip

They can never hold Cooks down, I’m bound to flip

I know you’re bound to slip, walking around

The hood with no gun, it’s obvious you ain’t down for it

I know I’m down for it

You can catch me down town, with the goonies from round town

We hold it down

Used to be so many guys on the road but we own it now

I ain’t saying I’m the realest

But I’ve been around some realness

Some guys hate my bars cause they can’t relate to the real shit

They don’t know about bare knuckle fist fights

Knocking out guys on a quick hype

Trying to make a little P, pan full of drugs and a flick knife

Yeah I’m quite pretty but ask about Cooks in the hood

You’ll be told he’s a sick guy

Pricks like you just get a beating

Nike Air Dunks, I’m there stamping

You can’t move or stand up, I’m beating

Get left on the floor, you’re wheezing

My boys round the corner, creeping

Cock back and hear man, blasting

Headshots are raining, bleeding

You can’t move or stand up, you’re

And I like you’re teasing

Draw for the mash, man’ll start breezing

Ducking out fast, they’re not screaming

Went into the woods start the

When he sees me

My four five, pop that, chest squeezing

Your your easing

Lacking for the key cause I’m not starting

Dash you in the back of the flats

Grips, bang him

He’s on the floor

No movement, he’s on the floor