paroles de chanson Who's Got? - Ghetts

Who′s got lyrics, who's got bars
Who can stay up in the sky like stars
Who keeps spitting the bars and don′t run out
We're the last of the old school stars
Who can stay up in the sky like stars (Ghetts)
Who keeps spitting the bars and don't run out (Ghetts)
We′re the last of the old school stars
Who′s got lyrics? Me not Wiley
Who's got bars? Me not Skepta
Who′s got lyrics? Me not Jamie
Who's got bars? Me not Frisc
Eight, sixteen, twenty four, thirty two
Sixty four′s are my fees for the bars
Ask anyone who's really advanced
You dunno what the answer is
It′s freedom of speech, I speak freely
Let 'em know I'm not easy, I′m hard
I′m as hard (bricks) but extremely suave
I run the game, you ain't ever seen me depart
Make way I′m in great shape
Because them would [?] the same [?]
So it's unfair when it come clear
Let me know what you think is unclear
I leave niggas speechless, mouth open but it′s no tongue there
Fake hate, nobody ain't safe
But man wanna act like they won′t run scared
Some dare but they would never near
When they run out I got some spare
I'm Shakespeare with a pen
Da Vinci with the paint brush
Tiger with the golf club
The writer with the most stuff
Babe Ruth with the bat
Take two it's a wrap
It′s my time for real
Lewis Hamilton behind the wheel
I make moves and I flash
So I can′t be stalled
Jordan with the basketball
On form like Arsenal
So I can't be stopped
Have I made my point, uh
Do what I′m best at
I be the best at what I do so I get cash
I write bars when the rest relax
It's quite hard but it pays off
365 I won′t take days off
Picture me with a regular day job
No I'll make history
It won′t happen instantly
But I bet I get what it ain't got
Whose got lyrics? Me!
Who's got bars? Me!
Who′s got gimmicks? Them!
Who′s not hard? Them!
Who's not spitters? Them!
Who′s not stars? Them!
Who's not winners? Them!
Who′s not last? Me
The way you battle thought I was in a Iraq
The way you battle you battle like I'm [?] a star
Made sinner but not one bit sinister
We ain′t similar
I'm the star of the show you're just front row of the cinema
In about five years time I won′t even recognise you
And I won′t think he looks familiar
I'm gonna buss, trust and I don′t need to snitch or get money or pay for a solicitor
Make no mistake I'm so on track
Only mistake I′ve made, huh, Is dressing like Riddler
Me not Wiley
Me not Skepta
Me not Jamie
Me not Frisc