Текст песни Hold On - Skinnyman , Foreign Beggars , DVS

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

Step in the ring, blaze cats, slay bate twats
Make that train, wait back, spread an 8-track
Spitting out all kind of rhyme with the way that
Make any rapper wanna stop with the late chat
Nobody knows a nigga looking to bring by
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
Cut, black eye, some wanna play flip-flap?
Sit back up, chit chatter, where da check at?
Charge next man £10 for a Tic Tac
Spit down lyric quick fast when they say cash
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
Woah? commin on a bit gotta get a (lick sharp?)
Quick fix, bitch, then did a bit of crack rock
Red-hot rapper, nigga nock about his spit right
Lock up any amatuer that wanna come shit talk
Ruba dub dub get dumped in the trunk
Armed with a mic and a big bag of punk
[?] run a muck and then I'll come
Make a hall stand up, fuck 'em up and to the back to the front
From my earliest pillaging and scheming with mad men
Bad men form all the way from Erith to Camden
Challenging any man dem who spit on a track
I never saw talkin' shit and get ready to lamp him
Big bad rappers get slapped up in tandem
Acting like dons but 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

Blud, I ain't trying to prove nothing, move something
Too many man are left dead for nothing
Get battered up, whacked up, spurred for nothing
Beat down, hurt, or left murked for nothing blad
But thats just how tings were gwannin
When a man said hes a bad man from morning
Now wait till Sunday morning, his family's in church, dressed in black; mourning
Nobody had a chance to warn him coz he had just been
On stage performing and certain girl-dem had started to swarm him
And 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 the depression
On the streets [?] my main stress relief
Bust one, and in your belly
Bust one, and in your teeth
And heap on anyone I'm looking to eat
Cos any idiot could have drawn the gun back
Lick out the barrel and make the gun clap
Me I just step at the mic and I run checks
Give them the eye and I shall return in 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