Lyrics Return of the Rucksack - Stormzy
I
don't
wanna
be
on
Lord
of
the
Mics
with
shit
MCs
Nah,
bro,
I'm
above
that
Using
my
name
for
a
dead
bit
of
fame,
tryna
get
up
in
the
game
Yeah
right,
nigga,
fuck
that
Stormz'
ain't
grime
and
Stormz'
ain't
clash,
look
don't
be
fooled
'Cause
the
war
ting,
I
love
that
Call
this
the
return
of
the
rucksack
Oi,
Flipz,
get
the
four-door
truck
back
Come
to
your
block
in
my
PJ's
Big
dot
dot
for
the
briefcase
Bro
bought
me
a
watch
for
my
b'day
And
my
girlfriend's
a
boss
like
I'm
Pique
Yeah,
I
lick
shots
for
my
DJ
And
I'm
still
getting
guap
in
my
CK's
Big
whip
I'm
underground
parking
(skrrt,
skrrt)
That's
word
to
the
fob
on
my
key-chain
Nigga,
can't
flex
on
me,
can't
flex
on
me
Rude
boy
thing,
all
the
cheques
on
me
See
Big
Mike
on
the
IV
site
Now
the
peng
tings
wanna
do
the
sex
on
me
I've
got
scars
for
days,
I'm
so
tribal
You're
not
Ghana
made,
you're
not
Michael
I
can
spar
and
spray
with
my
idols
Look,
if
I
slap
your
face,
it'll
go
viral
I
was
on
my
saracen
bike
on
my
ridge
back
(Word)
Cold
on
the
roads
but
I
did
that
(Word)
IPhone
3 with
the
GiffGaff
(Word)
Take
a
break
little
nigga,
have
a
KitKat
(Cool)
Came
for
the
war
like
I'm
Mixpak
I've
got
peng
tings
shaking
their
tic
tacs
And
I
know
that
I
shouldn't
be
sending
But
broke
niggas
shouldn't
make
diss
tracks
You
broke
niggas
should've
been
quiet
I'm
cold,
little
nigga,
don't
try
it
Yeah,
I
think
I'm
the
best,
I'm
biased
And
I
shoot
for
your
chest
like
Payet
But
I
roll
deep
on
these
Show
these
likkle
MC's
about
greaze
Show
these
likkle
MC's
about
me
I
was
on
my
steeze
from
2003
Like,
I
roll
deep
on
these,
put
these
MC's
on
deep
freeze
Yeah,
I
roll
deep
on
these,
put
these
MC's
on
deep
freeze
Yeah,
I
roll
deep
on
these,
put
these
MC's
on
deep
freeze
Yeah,
I
roll
deep
on
these,
put
these
MC's
on
deep
freeze
Yeah
Man
are
getting
killed
by
other
MC's
Then
coming
'round
here
tryna
start
Rude
boy,
we
ain't
forgotten
your
past
Laughing
stock
for
the
year,
what
a
laugh
Sending
for
MCs
can't
be
your
path
Rude
boy,
come
off
my
name,
just
graft
Man
wanna
know
what
they
paid
for
the
part
Know
that
I'm
comfy,
shout
out
Noel
Clarke
Bro,
you're
too
thirsty,
I
don't
blame
you
I
get
merky,
I
get
paid
too
You're
not
certi',
I
can't
hate
you
Just
a
wasteman
looking
for
a
breakthrough
I
know
Kofi,
I
know
Kweiku
You
can't
smoke
me,
I
don't
rate
you
Man,
I
told
these
niggas
that
it's
album
time
And
I'll
probably
go
gold
on
my
debut
I
was
on
a
BMX
bike
with
the
trick
nuts
(Word)
Out
here
tryna
get
my
chips
up
(Word)
Known
for
the
park
with
my
lightie
(Mm?)
I
was
fifteen,
tryna
get
my
dick
sucked
(Eurgh)
Young
nigga
tryna
get
my
dick
wet
(Word)
Had
a
cold
pink
jacket
like
Dipset
Last
night
I
just
rang
my
accountant
Like,
"Talk
to
me,
brother,
am
I
rich
yet?"
Like,
"Talk
to
me,
brother,
can
I
buy
this?"
Big
yard
for
my
nephew
Alias
Can't
get
this
style
from
a
stylist
Then
I
blow
on
the
riddim
like
ISIS
But
I
roll
deep
on
these
Show
these
likkle
MC's
about
greaze
Show
these
likkle
MC's
about
me
I
was
on
my
steeze
from
2003
Like,
I
roll
deep
on
these,
put
these
MC's
on
deep
freeze
Yeah,
I
roll
deep
on
these,
put
these
MC's
on
deep
freeze
Yeah,
I
roll
deep
on
these,
put
these
MC's
on
deep
freeze
Yeah,
I
roll
deep
on
these,
put
these
MC's
on
deep
freeze
Yeah
I
don't
wanna
be
on
Lord
of
the
Mics
with
shit
MCs
Nah,
bro,
I'm
above
that
Using
my
name
for
a
dead
bit
of
fame,
tryna
get
up
in
the
game
Yeah
right,
nigga,
fuck
that
Stormz'
ain't
grime
and
Stormz'
ain't
clash,
look
don't
be
fooled
'Cause
the
war
ting,
I
love
that
Call
this
the
return
of
the
rucksack
Oi,
Flipz,
get
the
four-door
truck
back
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