Lyrics Hold On - Foreign Beggars

Hold on tight to what you own, when there's people like me was outside your door
Hold on tight to what you own, when there's people like me was outside your home

Step in the ring, blaze tracks, slay bait twats
Make that train, way back, spread an 8-track
Spitting out all kind of rhyme in a way that
Make any rapper wanna stop with the late chat
Nobody knows a nigga looking to bring back
You couldn't even rock a toe with a play back
Foreign beggar fam over run as I take that
Rap Montana, write my name by the train tracks
Kit Kat rappers get bucked and bitch slapped
Crack black eye, some wanna flay flic-flac?
Sit back, cotch, chit chatter, where the tick at?
Charge next man £10 for a Tic Tac
Spit down lyric quick fast with ma sick chat,
Ship-wrecked rappers get bucked with a big bat
Kill any mini-man dick with a shit gat
Spill a man's guts with the face of a pick-axe
Who coming on a bit gotta get a lick shot?
Quick fix, bitch, then did a bit of crack rock
Red-hot rapper, nigga knock about his spit rah
Lock up any amatuer that wanna come shit talk
Rub-a-dub mug get dumped in a trunk
Armed with a mic and a big bag of punk
Jump up, run amock, I never come
Never humm, stand up, fuck 'em up from to the back to the front
From my earliest pillaging and scheming with mad men
Bad men all the way from there and to Camden
Challenging any man dem who wanna step on a track
And if he's still talkin' shit i get ready to lamp him
Big bad rappers get slapped up in tandem
Acting like dons when they're openly rampant
Jump up in the back of the car like he was strapped in
None of us panic, here I come, with my fat pen

X 2

Blud, I ain't trying to prove nothin' move somethin'
Too many man are left dead for nothing
Get battered up, whacked up, splurt for nothing
Beat down, hurt, or left murked for nothing blad
But thats just how tings gwannin
When a man said hes a bad man from morning
Now wait till Sunday morning,
His fams in church dressed in black; mourning
Nobody had a chance to warn him
'Cause he had just been on stage performing
And certain girl-dem had started to swarm him
After that just sounds quite alarming
One brother said your a chief,
And yes you can Tell that im looking beef
Coz i live around all of the pressure on the streets
But I never knew gunmen and stress relief
Bust one in your belly n'
Bust one in your teeth
Bringin' heap on anyone I'm looking to eat
Because any idiot could have drawn the gun back
Lick out the barrel and make the gun clap
Me I just step to the mic and I run chat
Give them the eyeshot then return with a comeback
Mr Vulga asked me to guest track
Instead of me telling the man dem to get flat
The manor that I'm living in, yes I rep that
Anything I want in life yes I get that
Disrespect me, get disrespect back
Are you really from the ends blad?
Forget that
Are you really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, from the ends blad?
Forget that
Are you really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, from the ends blad?
Forget that