| Ghost town |
| Andale motherfuckers |
| Dabbla |
| Arriba and all them tings there |
| Jam Baxter |
| Listen |
| Yeah |
| Nah actually fucking listen |
| Motherfucker I’m ill |
| Yeah I’m gonna get it on smash |
| Every single minute of the day, any how, any way |
| That you want it Iím on it I gotta dash in a flash |
| When i pull up in a car that’s crashed |
| Stunting like man of the match |
| With a brand new batch |
| And a brand new bag |
| And a brand new chick |
| And a brand new pad |
| That brand new shit |
| I put it down you slag |
| Yeah |
| Iíve had enough of the talk |
| Everybody’s running but they can’t ever walk |
| So I walk in the place with a smile on my face |
| And a wyle out with a drink I ain’t even bought |
| And you can take that to the piggy |
| Wagwan officer everyting jiggy? |
| Fancy a ciggie? |
| Course not, cause you on the job and you ain’t clocked off |
| S’no biggie |
| But donít get it back to the front |
| I will say «bitch, motherfucker and cunt» |
| Not just on record but in front of my mum |
| And ill do that till I turn hundred and one |
| Or maybe hundred and two |
| Stepped in the game now it’s under my shoe |
| Can’t say anythings changed I’m the same prick |
| That I was two thousand and five |
| Six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven |
| Are we really heading into Armageddon? |
| Seems like thatís what they’re shoving down our throats |
| Itís our future, lets make it our own, what you reckon? |
| I was always told life was hard |
| Buy a big house and drive a nice car |
| In school if you asked me what I wanna be |
| Back then I would have said the first boy on mars |
| All I wanna do is get lean with my team |
| If you know what I mean say «Yeah» |
| I drink, I puff, I can’t get enough |
| And I couldnít give a fuck like «Yeah» |
| All I really wanna do is make news with my crew |
| If you know how we do go «Yeah» |
| Don’t care what they say, man I run away |
| I’m gonna grind all day like «Yeah!» |
| I’m done with the stupid questions |
| Never called this a new direction |
| Just ghost town runs with a huge collection |
| And i cant part these two, rude to mention |
| So nah, I ain’t gonna jam to the usual |
| Bare man gassed from a bag full of bugles |
| Deep in my side and believe in the the hype |
| While I seen all my life I turn a staff to a poodle |
| Nah, be truthful, all I seen |
| Is a whole bag of kids with assorted dreams |
| And bare bad manners and a fucked up bladder |
| Cause they sniffed all the tranq', lets applaud 'em please |
| I ainít tryin’a get rinsed as a preacher |
| But why would your best friend tick you a litre |
| Thatís all Iíll say, |
| Can you pour all these in a big blue box, in a singular freezer |
| Bruv, who’s that geezer? |
| Sat down grinnin' |
| Shining, surrounded by cracked out women |
| He didn’t buy a drink, get your shank out, kill him |
| Nah that’s Baxter, jam down with him |
| Yep, chilling, club full of oddballs |
| Bare man in skin tight jeans looking hostile |
| Me I’m on a tracksuit ting with an HF tee and the bouncer ainít on my ensemble |
| Bruv, you seen them brehs |
| Ah, fuck it, I don’t even care |
| There’s bare loud rigs in a warehouse |
| rinsing a tear out come fam lets pop there |
| Yeah |
| Life as it is |
| Bare hard work and it’s finally crisp |
| So I’mma do me and keep running on stage |
| And spraying bars 'till I gotta slide for a piss |
| All I wanna do is get lean with my team |
| If you know what I mean say «Yeah» |
| I drink, I puff, I can’t get enough |
| And I couldnít give a fuck like «Yeah» |
| All I really wanna do is make news with my crew |
| If you know how we do go «Yeah» |
| Don’t care what they say, man I run away |
| I’m gonna grind all day like «Yeah!» |
| Hip-Hop scene hate me |
| The grime scene hate me |
| There ainít no better tag team Iíve seen lately |
| Giving them a high speed chase on the daily |
| Me, Jam Baxter and Ghost Town baby |
| Love it when the flow sound lazy |
| Make you wanna go down, throw down |
| Get into a show down, ho down, low down |
| May be crazy, praying that the game don’t change me |
| Same old me and a nut yeah |
| All up in the cut yeah |
| Trying to get my whole team up there |
| But they’re fucking with the flow |
| Cause they double-o by the blow like «fuck yeah» |
| And all your gonna hear is «tut tut» |
| Brothers wanna cock block |
| Nothing you can touch |
| What we got not go on rude boy, take a potshot |
| And what you what blood, yeah, and whatnot Knock-knock. Who’s there? |
| You can’t touch |
| us, Dance when we come drum bar When the bombs drop |
| Nonstop, feels like God dropping hot rocks |
| Straight off the roof, get loose in the cosmos |
| Jump off the compost heap all fragrant |
| Anytime, gettin' paid ever wakens |
| Bed schooled witches and bloodstained aprons |
| Abseiling till your brains like a raisin |
| Your fan base is an alienator |
| Small champagne and await the invasion |
| Who’s that trapped in a 2-D movie |
| Too lean, two feet chained to the pavement? |
| You. You, you and you, stay there |
| Cause us three man on a tune ainít fair |
| And all I wanna do is get mashed with my fam |
| If you’re down for the jam, say «Yeah, Yeah, Yeah» |
| All I wanna do is get lean with my team |
| If you know what I mean say «Yeah» |
| I drink, I puff, I can’t get enough |
| And I couldnít give a fuck like «Yeah» |
| All I really wanna do is make news with my crew |
| If you know how we do go «Yeah» |
| Don’t care what they say, man I run away |
| I’m gonna grind all day like «Yeah!» |