We us to talk about mics and how we’d ego trip, and now they talk about trapping and how they sell that shit. We use to appreciate the beat by just bobbin heads, Now mans are bleaching out the streets tryna pop them feds. I’m not complaining I understand that times are changing, But in reality the cultures really straining. But who I’m I just and old timer still rhyming, but old timer that’s put plenty of time in. Now I’m timing plenty and they ain’t got the time in, let alone the skills the cadence the flow for rhyming. Not forgetting the life experience to preach, when half of them don’t even life the life they speak. That be ok if you could actually rhyme, but I’m sick of see songs all based on one line. This ain’t no call out or throwing down the gauntlet ,I’m too busy battling myself that’s why I’m haunted. By the ghosts of relevance and self-acceptance, But I can’t accept some of the BS you say relevant. And then they say it was different in your day, But believe me todays my day I ain’t going away. Why should I stop when the beast is still in me? When my bars are as barbaric then half of you that I see on YouTube parading like a peacock on heat, while a balaclava covers up your school boy identity. Killing other mans you should be killing exams in reality ya killing ya future understand! Of Couse you don’t cuss if you did you might stop, you might actually speak the truth like prophets, not for profit. See my high house let me get off it, Before I gallant through the street and lyrical gun down your topics. Car when you write and recite somebody else listens, and they get influenced by that so-called street wisdom. That rhyme you wrote could make someone else do it, and then you look at them with the nerve to say they stupid. Every bar you recite about shooting is planned, Every time you claim to hold that gun up in your hand. Every time you tell um you shoting weed on the block, some other kid looks at you and thinks that’s all that life got. So let me rewind and reclaimed my mind, before you say I’m bitter and bitching all the time. I take the time to study the youth and keep listening, and give respect to the diamonds who keep glistening. These precious jewels these precious gems, the ones who study wordplay like it’s the bible in pen. That pen could actually save you from the pen, when you pen a line that penetrates the heart of many men. Metaphors that motivate the minds of a nation, in time will bread and create a new generations. The new players of this game will always win it because they study the history and create a future with no limits.

Hook I wish that I could fly away and try and find a brighter day today I wish that I could fly away, I wish I could just fly away (I’m like a jailbird) I’m like a jail bird flying free living my life behind these bars praying for someone to come and save me. Reclining in my 6x9, staring up at the ceiling waiting for the divine to show me a sign. Top bunk revealing my demons claustrophobic feelings boxed in a box for freedom, I be feening. I’m shadow boxing’ in the shadows but they striking back, bare knuckles banging up the walls it’s like a blood bath. Skin pealing revealing my bones underneath, gritted teeth arguing against myself about beliefs. The soliiqiue of kaos in the hour of need, it’s over standing and not being able to breath. Suffocating in silence internal prison violence, rioting with righteous thoughts is so tireless. Bandage up the bleeds in time then return to.my 6 x9 the prison cell up in my mind. Crawling out my cell by the skin of my teeth squeezing my soul out of these bars is like therapy. A way to see the sunshine a d hold on forever I’m stepping on clouds tryna get over this bad weather. Dodging hail stones, frozen souls I’m 85% water myself so i stroll through the rain and feel natures blessing, life’s testing, confined in my cell tryna figure out these lessons. Carving my name in the concrete, escaping the realms of reality maybe one day the light ill see. Posters plaster my walls covering the carved out hidden tunnels of internal turmoil. Miles and miles of mind maps mathematical equations, coordinates and stats. Tryna figure out the latitude and longitude of happiness and to be blessed with no stress eventually the cell will become a coffin, I will no longer scrape my nails across the wall and count my days off um. Stick man 5, 15, 20, 50, my finger nails are broken down, dirty grimy and gritty. I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired, my hands are fed up flicking middle finger salutes to liars. I’m feeling i need to retire to my cell, screaming F’ the world and go to hell.

It’s a 24/7 vibe to survive these times, I feel I’m going crazy in my mind. Deadlines over life lines, that’s a modern day equation or is it modern day enslavement. Pressure to mash up the cypher, nearly had me swallowing double barrel riffles. Index trigger finger getting nervous penning verse rehearsing moves against myself like I was mursulus. Tryna keep my fingers in the flames. Burning up myself for a name. That’s when writers block grabbed up my pen. Stabbing my mental motivation again and again. Lines are on the tip of my tongue but I can’t taste them let alone spit um out before she erases them. I try and write like Shakespeare with veins full of propane at night in candle light but she blows out the flame. I feel I’m living in a world where sleep is an illusion. Every time my eyes closed I come to that conclusion. Struggling to sleep now insomnia be sitting at my bed sparking a joints talking heaps now.as she inhales deep I feel the sleep leave my life as the cozen of death creeps. Then I see a crew of memories I look.at every single face and every single dance I see is me at different ages stages in time, oh wait this is my life line. See my present self but after that it’s not clear, that’s when I’m overcome by fear. I see the last too images fight one with a bible one with a needle will there be an end and will there be a sequel equal measures of pleasure and pain, joy and sorrow I wish I could just close my eyes and open them tomorrow. 1 sheep 2 sheep 3 sheep 4, 5 sheep 6 sheep 7 sheep more, 8 sheep 9 sheep 10 sheep 11, maybe I will sleep when I am in heaven but for now it’s just another all-nighter.

She had the eyes of foreign living with a sun blessed mardi gras. I'd re arrange stars, to shine eternally without pars. No human equal, a heavenly sequel memorise people control the world when I freak her. The world’s evil but with her it's got a chance heart of gold like Dr Midas did her transplant. With curves to set the ocean ablaze. An ora that could make a blind man see the light and start to gaze. I bet if I took a tear from your eye and multiplied I'd get an ocean of compassion that would never run dry. Sky’s the limit for her I'd take the sun and dim it. She’d diminished my fears straight up there ain't new gimmicks. No games played no bullshit parade. No feeling of juggling pin less hand grenades, she may blow at any time. No more lying awake wondering where she is; man these dreams are so vivid. She’d have the stature to capture my soul body and mind, press rewind on her life then press play next to mine. It’s hard to read the signs but I studied calligraphy design so I am going to figure out the letters in time. Play her like life, she can play me like the Grim Reaper. I know she ain't un-pullable like wet reefers. I cater to her ego blow her fantasy sky high, till it suffers from vertigo no lie. Try to resist is like walking tightrope in greasy shoes, plus I hold the rope so she’ll will fall when i choose. She’d loose nothing but her inhibitions, maybe her sense of gravity because every 500 positions she’d be dizzy. Maybe a couple of pounds in ain't saying she need it but every time we swing the fantasy she loosing calories. She’d flat line my sanity. She’s always in my dreams one day she’ll be reality. When the dark sky’s crumble and the humble start to rise, the will search for a leader and you will be in their eyes. You be the queen of queens the heron in my dreams in the silver cloud lining you’re the gold stitched seems. You make me realise freedom like being released from a cell I find I wish you were not just in my mind. Since I wrote this rhyme you have appeared a self-fulfilling prophesy, I prophesied now you here with me. From Ayamonte beach black pumas in the sea, a vision of forever like I just framed eternity. The eyes of foreign living, the sun bleesed mardi gras, the re arranging of stars the golden hearts the ocean of compassion the eternal fears, no longer around because you are here.

Took my position on the black leather sofa and laid back, tryna figure out why my life felt over. Pushed the playback button but got a blank screen. Like I couldn’t rewind to that scene. She said “how you feel about your loss” I told her I’m pissed off I wanna tell the world I don’t give a toss. Feeling stressed to the max, blaze a bag of cigarettes back to back and only use 1 match. The situation got me pissed, I could jump into a pool of paraffin with a lit spliffs. Or hit some golf balls at rubber walls full of anthrax and try and catch them in my mouth on the ways back. It’s like the ultimate payback she said “I’ll take you to your child hood and way back” She opened and ask me if I have regrets I said we all do” and then she smiled and simple said. She said now what’s it going to be you wanna die a quiet man or you going to open up to me? I replied with monochrome tears in my eyes I’m searching for the rainbows in the broken skies. I never saw my dad cry until my mum died. I never smoked crack but on that day I think I’d try. I’m not the type to hit the pipe and get wasted, but I’d hit that vain to take the pain and erase it. I’d short the needle so far up my arm that it would go round my shoulders and poke out my other palm. I’d harm myself every day to take the pain away, sacrifice my life so dad could see my mum again. Like the pain of a thousand swards a thousand lashes from a thousand loads. A thousand sins punished with one strike nothing compares to the pain of that night. She left me like an accapella with no words, a tune with no sound, a city with no ground. A sky with no birds, left me in pain. No longer will happiness reign again. Left me crazy insane wondering why she had to die and then fly into a broken skies. Wondering if I will see her again will she be at the pearly gates sat there to let me in. Left me like De Nero crazy status so now you see me taxi driving straight cross the Atlas. My wheels spinning so fast I spin the world off its axes now you see the globe spinning backwards. I drive into the rain so fast I travel 5 miles not even hit by a single splash I drive almost crashed 3 times tonight and that’s on purpose. I can’t even do something like that right. She left me dazed and confused like the theory of a female Jesus now there’s nothing I can do. Lost all sense of time can’t even tell if its night or day in the sunshine.so as I drive tryna get my head straight will it take the weight or will it seal my fate for real. I been through trials and tribulations before but hands down this beats them all I can’t say no more.

Hook If you heaven gave you 1 more minute how would you live it, would you waste it or with open arms embrace it Would it be, 6 seconds of souls searching? 7 seconds to Say sorry for all the hurting, 2 seconds murkin,45 to analyse this life is it worth it or would you take the 45 divide it in to segments? Perfect pieces, spend 2 seconds with believers a couple with high achievers minus the mischiefers. A second to smoke a reefer for old times’ sake then take a second to cough up my lungs before they break.3 seconds checking the time the second hand is ticking, take the next 3 collecting debt from my frenemies forget the enemies because at least they were straight up take 2 seconds to contemplate the 2 faced fucks. A five second singalong to my fav song, walk a long the beach barefooted without shoes on as the sands of time run dry tears grace my eyes I look up to the sky as my seconds go by. 21 seconds to go so solidify the next verse taking 3 seconds to rehearse. 18 left until I take my last breath, no more stress insomnia will stop beating on my chest so I’m a feen with the next 14, 3 seconds to create a scene in my mind a beautiful dream. 11 left until I take heavens test I best not waste my breath pace my rest no time to mess. Until they lay me to rest I use a couple of secs to dissect the life that I’ve left. Did I leave a mark on mankind leave my prints on this world I take a second as I picture my baby girl. Then I smile for 4 more with my feet firmly on the floor take another 4 totally in or. How many seconds left I bet it's only 4 just enough time to say to the family I love you all.

We dare to dream, we dare to climb all these wonders. We bite the dust in these modern times, as we escape the reality. We share we seek we press the likes, left with the hunger. We blind to see this world of ours. The world is ours the world is ours Now there’s 7 wonders of the world well here’s a few more, a man saving next man’s life without applause. The birth of a child with the smile of a diamond, the northern lights lighting up the sky with no trying. Rain pouring down evaporating then rain again, that’s Mother Nature protecting her sen. Or the pace of medicine or Edison recording sound for the first time let me rewind and say it again. The pace of medicine, open heart surgery, splitting Siamese twins with no sign of casualties. We casually appreciate the flight of a bird pay no attention to the invention or words we marvel at the wealthy and celebrate the rich list what kinda world is this, celebrating Likes, follows and Shares, what kind of world is this does anybody care? Wined down your window turn the track up high and let the beat just elevate the corners of your smile like the settling snowflakes frees time on a sun dial, slow down the pace chill for a while. Let Mother Nature’s melodies help with the meditation, open your mind and maybe you will find divines creations. The beauty of a flower the dynamics of a bird’s wing the way the wind seems to sing and carry seeds for spring. Summer time at sunset, sun rays shining off the oceans as you walk and get your feet wet. The smell of cut grass in the morning rain or writing your lovers name on a frosted window pain. Hearing the words I love you followed by your name, the sound of children laughing all together playing game. If you can find eternal pleasure in the simple things, happiness can be your guide through everything.

Hook - In the Grave yard of guns do they rest in peace? Walking through the grave yard of guns reading the tombstones and wondering how come, Some have names, but the rest are anonymous, did they die in vain or were they slain to pay the cost? Did they die defeating or defending, or maybe message sending, warning shots across the block? Did they shout stop-freeze before the guns gut got squeezed causing it to vomit all over the street, assisting the escapist or resisting the rapist, or pistol whipping a pedo who tried to take a kid it’s just another day in the life of the riffle who arrived here, but in the grave yard of guns there’s nothing to fear hear. Rusty barrels no longer playing Russian roulette no longer taking a life for the price of a bet. Broken handles hardly recognisable with triggers jammed inside never again to be pulled. I see many grave stones but there hard to read, so I remove some leaves and uncover what’s beneath. Etched with a hint of grief I read the type. Here lies the body of billy the kid’s wife, the Winchester 73 under the casket door, she was buried with the colt 44. Next to me I get an eyeful I see the grave of Betsy Davie Crochet's flintlock rifle. She died well before he did if you believe, everything you read about the Alamo siege. Next to it a Shotgun started life shooting clay pigeons, but ended it with a suicide mission. Took the life Kirk Corban so easy, It’s ironic the head stone was shattered into pieces. The next one I seen was a Thompson sub-machine Nickname ‘tommy’ born in 1918 became. Infamous in the prohibition, a quick trigger in the middle of the world war of liquor. I see the filler of heaven the most widely produced firearm ever the AK 47 fields and fields of identical graves plots, millions of lives taken millions of fired shots. The smell of smoking barrels there’s no longer a trace just the stench of death in this place. As my nostrils fill up with the stench of death I think about the triggers and did they wanna be caressed were they happy killing innocent children. Happy to assist in hold up banks and bagging up millions. Fulfilling a destiny that they can’t control or change left in the hands of the deranged. Placed the palms of the revenge ridden often hidden, but what choice would they make it was given?

He lived a life on his own to Rome around the streets with no home alone with his memories of his money like Capone. He saw a drown flying over his head reminiscing about flying over the med first class resting his head on the finest lining, signing checks for millions, designing rings for weddings with someone filling his glass a -lass times change with feeling. He lost it all now he’s kneeling in front strangers begging spare change a couple years back, back packing around the outback now his back pack is full of his entire life in a flash back. That’s where he saw her in an angora sweater, beauty of Monroe the lord never made better. He fed her glorious food, no laborious moods crude talk lead to walking a fine line, addicted to her sexual prim. No time at all signing over the mansion walls, passion called but as he placed ring he lost it all. Montage Bay with martini checks, dreamy sunsets, no regrets Russian roulette with million pound bets. Cashing checks from the ex, after the complex plan was a success now she’s living like a princess. A villa in Budapest, a mansion in the Maldives a passion for real thieves always screaming for the P’s. Dreamt of the high life, a billionaire’s wife, married for riches then digging ditches without glitches. Only recognisable by finger rings what the fuck! A million bucks on nips and tucks new boobs and butt. New schemes in her black book with murderous melodies and killer hooks always looking out for young bucks, still fucked the older the holders of the finance. High romance rollers captured with a single glance. Behold her power fall in love within the hour sexual enslavement then leave um living on the pavement. He said “Can you spare some change to change my life” as she passed by the sun in her eyes so she didn’t recognise him. Flipped a coin like she despised him, a penny just to patronise him simply not realising; the diamond on her finger was a one of a kind he almost cried as it blinded his eyes he recognised the design .He’d carved by his own hands a platinum band years ago from the outback lands. She shouted back “damn that body oda, aroma to leave you in a coma,” he’d given her everything that she owned “You don’t recognise me do you, I’m the fool who knew you before your stolen rich’s and with them fake posh pitches “He pointed to her gentleman friend and said “who’s this your next victim” She said “excuse me” loosely letting go of her partners hand, accusing me of what you little homeless man, begging Spare change like tramp! He said “You see I usta have it all until I met this girl, she stole my whole world now I sleep on street curled up in a ball to try and keep safe” He looked into the gentleman’s face “you don’t believe me let me prove my case” “That ring on her finger take it off and read inside” He took it off read it with tears in his eyes. Engraved the word forever yours all my love jack as he turned back he saw that name inside the beggars hat!

I’m like the image of a frozen flame memoirs of the murdered. A black sparrow never seen some would say unheard of, but i been hearing things and keeping tabs on the game, and what i realise is things just ain’t the same. Everybody wanna battle take the cash and be the best, but nobody’s breaking the bank if all this money were sweat. Kids watch these battles on YouTube and its glorified then enter for real take a Loss and start to cry. High expectation of all this adoration burning up the floor receiving all the crowd elation, change the station! You see your son don’t always shine in every situation and those tears ain’t just water so no evaporation. Just hard work and dedication a lot of hours spent on repetition making mistakes and fin frustration. Real talents a gift, not an ego expectation if you don’t elevate the culture don’t expect its admiration. I’m sick of seeing battle won by politics. Same moves same style same ************* shit. I’m sick of all this out of time melody missing, memorising track then only every **** hitting. Dropping names in your #s don’t give you a position. Saying you’re new to this style while you only compliment fishing. One day you’ll catch a jelly fish and i certainly won’t be pissing, save that bullshit for the naive that don’t clock ya mission. Ambition is amazing if your integrity’s right, but these copycats are discuses as kittens as they bite. So who’s responsible for all this quality control, we are every time we like share or even follow. I love the real peeps who skill drill and sweat for weeks and never hit a peak because their egos asleep. Study the foundations and respect the OGs ,take this culture for a culture and not just for making P's. Believe me i ain’t bitching i support this generation, but you can’t see positivity in every situation. I won’t fill your tank up with false hopes and admiration, too many on the scene gassed up like filling stations. But if you had to write your history the pencil would be unleaded, so insignificant is the only place you headed

So who do you see when you see me is it really me that you see when you see me? X3 Now you be mortified, if you saw me with a 45 you’d have to run and hide or do the suicide or just abide to the demands I’m asking. Before I start blasting harassing out your mental double barrel to the temple. No words like instrumentals, hush and I be gentle, I bet your tryna figure out the thoughts in my mental. Your thinking has he got it, I mean the balls to cock pull the trigger blow your head into the orbit like a rock it. So As I cock it, you drop to 1 knee, release the safety, you drop again so don’t be hasty, or 2 needy. Now in your final mins, Will you repent your sins, or stay hell bent on your wins with cocky grins. Am I the personality to switch reality, Gemini jeopardy, place your bets and then we’ll see, 2 out the chamber release hitting you or me? Would I Leave you shocked, if you saw me popping the Cîroc in my other hand a Jack Dan straight off the rocks, drop-in pennies on Henni, strictly top tier selection, full throttle, like joy riding on suspension, licence terminated, fully dehydrated and haggard as i stagger to queens med my head fully bladder getting madder, as my inhibitions leave my soul, no holding my tongue thoughts explode. Unloading home truths, car I don’t give a Kcuf. But I’ll still reverse the curse so I can keep it off mute. Would your shock increase, if you saw me throwing up puke, middle finger salute telling everybody just move, urinating in public wetting up the lamp posts, then post it on insta so you can witness it folks. Chocking on my on vomit spaced out like a commit, but I thank my lucky stars that my life is far from it. Would you stop and stare if you saw me puffing a zoot, or holding my vein looking for a needle to shot or setting sail on the Satan ship, the devils lust, I mean that fallen angles dust loving the head rush. Getting lean of the lean, a feen for mixing codeine, hard candy in a soda stream. Purple dranking skanking like a zombie, but I’m thanking my lucky stars that life is far from me.

We can tag we can piece we can bomb all day as long as we getting up in this world we Ok Waking up with a yawn its 530 in the morn. Time for me to splatter paint and fill the crack of dawn,Hallucinating like I’m seeing this shit in my dreams. Waking up the walls of the world by any means. Creating colour schemes like a beat from preem, pristine like the Sistine chapel, I’m a still a feen for the 400 Millie’s flinging like spears, splatter the horizon like rainbows sobbing tears. Black books are begging to be buried, I’m murdering these masterpieces like Mona Lisa being beheaded. Hit the wall with so much flavour the bricks salivate. Raze the bar so high gravity retaliate. I’m paid for my trade so there’s no need to rack um, but it’s no mean feat i murder walls and toe tag um. Leaving 4 body bags on 4 bloody slab one for each letter of my tag Now let me tell ya about this just getting up, the adrenaline rush like jumping in a ruck screaming what the fuck? Or Double Dutch skipping sipping on Cîroc. On top of a burning building while juggling twin locks. Pin pops on the hand gerunds and penetrates divine .Navy seal navigation never missing the lines. Stop sit back and recline And workout if it’s finer that a fracture called hair line. It’s all in the design the detail and do dazas. If blazing walls is love I be forever married. I’m savage when it comes to paint splatters, leave the nozzle in tatters, broken and battered like a bleeding bladder. Blood red for the main fill, spill out the cans guts as I slice its nuts so it can’t fuck up. Better hurry up and hit the high lights before the street lights highlight my night life. Tonight were bombing the world spray cans ready, 2 strapped to my back and 1 to my belly kamikaze mission suicide ready, tonight were going all out the city’s getting messy. Tagging everything that moves ya better mover quickly, I’m tagging lamp posts like I’m signing the city. Still on my grind till I’m way past 50, time after time still grimy and grit

Now its been ,47 winters and 47 summers, yeh the seasons change but that’s just numbers, how many angles crossed my path how many devils stopped and laughed at decisions I made and stayed for the aftermath? How many times have I taken my craft in vein? How many soldiers have died in this war we call a rap game? Battle field’s bulging with bodies, broken family’s breakdown lets break down the birth, and it’s a just hobby. Spitting in a cipher in a building lobby, street corner stages, name up in street lights ya famous. Time changes gotta to live up to your rhyme status, pages now poisoned dumb down and dangerous. Cemetery waiting in the wings but no wages, kamikaze missions with them suicidal playlists. Every day they invasion the title of the greatest. But do they ever think about what the real fate is? Real trigger pullers or wanna be medical scholars but peer pressure got them like on the follows. Tomorrow’s ashes to ashes and the dust to dust willing to die for the thumbs up, but do they understand the price of such a life, searching for likes but when the murking strikes they will see the tunnel and lights. Took a stab at this rap life but ironically died when they put their hand around the knife.

Waking up in a world full of broken dreams, broken sky's broken rainbows is all I seen. Broken family just tryna make the ends meet, while kids are meeting in the ends shooting rocks for p's. Mind your p’s and q’s is what my farther use to tell us I never heard him use a cuss word while in our presence. We’d get the K’ no doubt, if we let one out, that's was his way of tryna save us from the rotten route. A rotten rascal causing hassle till he sat me down wish I could watch him paint with oils and then pastels now. Laying down the law while the sketching landscape, working 24/7 tryna stretching out the pap’s. Making mistakes along the way but always rectified, with true integrity I never heard my farther lie. Till the day he died still a man of sheer pride. I know he's still in my soul deep down inside. I woke up in this jungle searching for a vine, maybe this jungle is my head and I just need a lifeline. Car life is difficult I'm searching for the one divine maybe one day I'll find but for now I'll just look back in time. And reminisce Picasso pages being turned and studied, my dad would say slow down son why you in a hurry. Visions blurry but the sound track is crystal clear, opera playing in the sitting room blessing our ears. The classic classical cluttered with mad dramaticals my father could explained the refrains and sound magical. It's tragical in later years he couldn't even hear um, I'd sacrifice a million for some turn the time back serum so he could mimic out the fingers playing violins, orchestrating the wind section just like a gentle man. Recreating all these the memories I have with pride. I know he's still in my soul deep down inside. I looked into the mirror and i saw my father’s eyes looking back at me into my soul shit i nearly died. How can i deny the fact your gone, how can i put every memory that i have of you all up in just one song. Too many pads too many pens too many perfect pictures, signatures across the sky under the words i miss you. Catch a cloud squeeze it out until it starts to rain, so the drops of water cover up me crying tears of pain. You and mum were umbrella to the stormy weather, now unprotected from the stress and strains of life endeavours. I knew you 46 winters and 45 summers, sometimes I look up in the sky and wonder, if your numbers came up in heavens lottery would you come back and see me and everyone in the family, or would the pain of leaving again be too deep. This time I would be there holding your hand as you go back to sleep.

Today’s the day, but may I may, take it right back to the days of way when we use to just call for our mates to go (so let me take it back to the old days) I was born in NG7 it wasn’t heaven I mean the pre-teen scenes riots on the green of Hyson was fighting like Tyson with lightening its frightening, but I can’t explain that now so let me lighten up the mood a little. I mean how we usta tittle tattle, I mean way before MC battles. We use to cuss each other I’m talking mother jokes that was all and if you stalled you would just say your mums got balls. It kinda worked for everything, we would drop it in now and then and if you had a fight you would still walk home as friends. Forget spliffs cigarettes were hard core remember my first bike second hand of course. A red chopper handle grips made of hose, riding round shouting abuse at the pros. It wasn’t about shows, flows and those phat beats it was all about playdoh and your next bag of sweet. I remember Kiddy skanks as a child like a hyena on laughing gas we use to giggle all the while, running wild in the streets playing dobby off ground or making go cart’s from the wheels that we found or on Southey street playing kick can lurgy, when it was quiet we’d grab a ball and play some kurby. I know you heard me I know you can relate to this, ear what 22’s meant I’d tell you straight with this. Good was bad if it was great it was bay din. Gal were skiff, if you were checking you were dating. You caught a gal’s number you’ have to wait by the phone, like you were a prisoner of love up in your own home. And if you’d nt to meet her you couldn’t be later you couldn’t miser, you couldn’t hit her up on Twitter. The last line am a say with a grin when you were finished with her you’d get your mates to pack her in. We played I dare double dare true love kiss command or promise, so I grab the Mic and pay homage to the days of way back the toys we use to have , my speak , Simon says and my Big track, we’d act like big daps, but in reality we were little chaps, chapping up the knees of them big G’s. Looking up to elders paying respect though, if you were renk and mouthed off you would catch and elbow. We stepped to town to check skiff, but I was too young too shy to even catch a whiff. We didn’t blaze but we would run up in C&A tryna teef your ski googles and hat for a Saturday. I never forget my cellopetes, yellow sky ways for my BMX, Adidas kicks for crepes, although my Bauer turbos were my favs skating on the pave all day all day all day so.

47 summers and the same winters, to realise that my life’s out of kilter. Too much stress too self critically, too egotistical to realise its pity full. Maybe too delicate to see that every time I build these walls that surround me. It’s hard enough for me to see over the edge, let alone other people to hear what I said. I’m hearing echo in the empty ally’s, started to lose sight of reality, finger nails worn down tryna scale the wall that I build, so once again I can see my wife chilled. I’m sorry for the pain sorry for the anger, sorry for the time you’ve spent with a stranger. I’m sorry for the pain sorry for the anger, sorry for the time you’ve spent with a stranger. It took me 47 winters to chill I can’t lie I spent a couple winters billing up and taking pills. Trying to dumb down the pain, but like eternity’s picture forever in the frame. Hanging in the hallways begging to be seen, hanging in the hallways the final seen. Images of self-pity a lonely opponent now I pity those images every single moment, Was in a place where vulture don’t even roost. Darker then the bottom of double barrels to shoot. But saw a smile on the beach, turned round and saw the footsteps were four deep. But before try and give myself away, I got to learn how to love myself someday. I’m sorry for the pain sorry for the anger sorry for the time I spent with a stranger. Sometimes crippled by exhaustion on the outside its fine but on the inside I’m crawling. Tryna escape these walls, the ones that are closing in before they fall. From the dust the bricks the mortar. I look around and I catch a glimpse of my daughter. Heaven forbid I ever chose to leave, but I understand how a close call can feel. I keep a picture in my mind, but you will never understand how it saves me at times. I couldn’t do what was done to me; a lifetime of questioning myself and not the family. I see these questions echo every day, but I will never leave you this was. I’m sorry for the pain sorry for anger, I’m sorry if you ever saw me as a stranger.