3 Wheel-ups - Kano, Wiley, Giggs

3 wheel-ups in a row

That means I’m a direct rudeboy

2 2 yats of my own

That means I’m a direct rudeboy

Man can’t call up my phone

Then gwan like a direct rudeboy

One side bag and a stoney

Don’t make you a direct rudeboy

Some MCs come with the wickedest talk

But really, dem man chat crap

Acting like a donny but they’re gonna backtrack

When real niggas step on the riddim and chat facts

I don’t put myself in places

If I weren’t there then I weren’t, let’s face it

If you weren’t there then you weren’t, that’s basic

I kill 'em with the realest shit and they hate it

I’m a diffuser, can’t act tougher than you are round me

I’ve got youts dem tougher than you are round me

I nearly died for the game, that’s right

But some spitters ain’t nuttin' around me

I was getting 'em hyper, you was touching your lighter

I was king of the mic and I’m a motherfucking G

None of you are bad round me, it’s not only about me though

Let me give a shoutout to my scene

Pussy and rum, that’s a rider for real MCs

Me and Wiley had a clash, that’s a real MC

Hold tight D Double E, that’s a real OG

I said hold tight D Double E, that’s a real OG

Mad, reload ting

Pop, pop, pop, that’s a reload ting

And when I say «it's Kano in the house»

Everybody knows that’s a reload ting

If you’ve been shotting in the manor from way back when

And you ain’t on a kilo ting

I don’t wanna hear about cunch and food and tings

Man don’t do those tings

On-sight, thought he was onside, init

Saw them guys, no shots fired, init

If you ain’t real then don’t ride, init

That postcode, that’s offside, init

Badman from which part?

Dem man do witchcraft

Dem man do obeah, us man are kosher

I’ve been that nigga since Kickers and loafers

In bits where kids don’t give a shit about olders

Where man don’t care 'bout fathers

Man just care 'bout figures

Man don’t care 'bout yards

Man just care 'bout Bimmers

Man don’t care whose arm

Man just care if it’s blinging

Man don’t care 'bout masks

Man’ll do it bare-face, init

We don’t do none of that bare-face fibbing

The realest shit on your airwaves, init

3 wheel-ups in a row

That means I’m a direct rudeboy

2 2 yats of my own

That means I’m a direct rudeboy

Man can’t call up my phone

Then gwan like a direct rudeboy

One side bag and a stoney

Don’t make you a direct rudeboy

Can’t tell me nuttin'

Cook down mutton then pass through the gutter

Link Jus D red cups out the cupboard

In the jungle, I move with original nuttahs

And the same madman fly out for the summer

Lick two blocks?

Who are you?

Runners

Shut down dance, who am I?

Shottas

Couple wheel-ups at Butterz, that’s nuttin'

Boiling point, I keep it 100

Yeah, G goes in

Bag a three-pointer, free throw ting (swish)

Niggas looking at me on a keyhole ting

I’m a gangster and a gentleman, G-host ting

I’m a skinny nigga, nigga, me so slim

Put the jimmy on, that’s when the D goes in

Man are getting money, type the keycodes in

Please can I have my money?

What’s the keycode pin?

Fuck that, niggas wanna act, we back them up

Knife game-giving if it’s backs, I axe them up (switch it)

I’m man of the match, I matched it up

And I’m with the bats, I patched it up

Sitting in the trap with crack to cut

I’m sitting in the caff and cracked a cup

I’m silly with the MAC, man mashed 'em up

I hit him with the blap, then backed the truck

So gully, we so slick

K, Hollow, we both pimps

Can’t look inside the window, nigga, peep those tints

Better tell the waiter, better leave those drinks

Add a little bass, you better leave those synths

I’m silly with the clip, I’m gonna teach those chimps

Man ah put it on him when we see those wimps

I’m finished with the little nigga, he’s so rinsed

He’s so jinxed, I’m king

And he’s no prince

I let it bap, bap, bap, ping ping

And then leave no prints

I said that, that, that, that’s me

And yes, he’s so skint

I’m in the matte black 350

With Clarke, let beef go mince

If you don’t look after your own yout, boy

You’re not a direct rudeboy

And you’re in DSTRKT popping that Goose, boy

You’re not a direct rudeboy

Bond Street, just bought brand new Gucc, bwoy

And you man can’t get a new toy

That’s why a man’s BM just preed

Then sent me a direct, rudeboy

16 bars in effect

Might just upset a man’s lyrics

Take this pen to your neck

And just Joe Pesci man with it

Cash rules everything around me

That’s word to a Method Man lyric

Yeah, I roll deep in the East

But I still might Megaman with it

Yeah, I said it, yeah, yeah, I said it

Cheques, we get it, cash and collec' it

That likkle pellet, that nah gon' mek it

Rest his head in that man’s spaghetti

Yout dem are menace, nuttin' like Dennis

Man got straps, ain’t even got credit

Kids push prams to Westfield to lick it

And run from pigs, don’t even watch Peppa

Real go-getter, geezers know better

But geezers need excitement, says Skinner

Don’t resort to violence, no, never

Man just start with violence, go figure

Eat man’s food before man eat dinner

Buss that booze, I roll and drink liquor

Left that Giggsy gap for my nigga

3 wheel-ups in a row

That means I’m a direct rudeboy

2 2 yats of my own

That means I’m a direct rudeboy

Man can’t call up my phone

Then gwan like a direct rudeboy

One side bag and a stoney

Don’t make you a direct rudeboy

Can’t tell me nuttin'

Cook down mutton then pass through the gutter

Link Jus D red cups out the cupboard

In the jungle, I move with original nuttahs

And the same madman fly out for the summer

Lick two blocks?

Who are you?

Runners

Shut down dance, who am I?

Shottas

Couple wheel-ups at Butterz, that’s nuttin'

Boiling point, I keep it 100

Sweet, geez!