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Album: Skepta .. Fred (2025)
Charted: 54
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  • Open up your bedroom door
    Let your mum hear this
    Introduce her to the music
    Yeah

    (Dem way there, I wear my own garm's)
    (Man see me on road, and want arms)
    (Tell them shut your mouth, there's no qualms)
    (Tell them shut your mouth, there's no qualms)
    Tell them shut your mouth, you're not bad
    No, you can't son me, never ever lost in a clash, you're mad
    Try diss me on my family tree, alright, we could go dad for a dad
    (Like, ay, Skepta, why you merkin' so many MC's?)
    Cah they don't know about greaze
    I was really in the field with the G's
    We were dissin' out wax on trees
    My first wack came in a boxin' glove
    Got my second one for some weed and P's
    Why lie? Tell me the reason, please
    That ain't gon' impress me 'cause

    (Real recognize real, recognize real)
    (Recognize real, recognize real, I'm so real)
    They recognize me in Winchmore Hill
    Primrose Hill, Brixton Hill
    You're not a bad boy, and I'ma die on that hill
    'Bout to show why a man recognize me 'cause
    (Real recognize real, recognize real)
    (Recognize real, recognize real, I'm so real)
    They recognize me on wave and trap
    They recognize me on grime and drill
    You're not a bad boy, and I'ma die on that hill

    Allow it, man
    I wanna get my bar off, man
    No, I wanna get my bars out, please, no more wheel up, man
    Please, man

    Young SK, I was goin' insane
    To go radio, I had to walk in the rain
    Tell me what you know about surfin' the train?
    No illogical thinkin', had stress on the brain
    One time I had to murk eight MC's
    Bettin' any money, they won't test me again
    Before I did fit pics, I been a lyricist
    Had to make 'em put some respect on my name
    (Like, ay, Skepta, why you merkin' so many MC's?)
    That was the word on the curb
    I don't bend, so how can I get curved?
    Private jet, I was flyin' with your bird
    Every other lyric you're talkin' about gun
    Man, you ain't got straps, stop lyin', you're a nerd
    Said you was a bad boy, blood, say word
    I went to your ends, that's not what I heard
    (Dem way there, I wear my own garms)
    (Man see me on road, and want arms)
    I still gotta step on my ones, I'm so calm
    You talkin' like you know the drillers you're not Quan
    (Tell them shut your mouth, there's no qualms)
    (Tell them shut your mouth, there's no qualms)
    Talkin' 'bout crashin' out, you're not Swarmz
    Real recognize real, dem boy ain't do me no harm
    (The nurse that brought me)
    (Will recognize me when I'm forty, like, I'm so real)
    From Australia, all the way to Brazil, I got fans sayin' I'm the G.O.a.t. Still
    Don't come to my show if you're tryna be cool and chill
    Cah your drink might spill, end up in the moshpit, hands in your grill
    Flow so sick, you might need a NyQuil

    (Real recognize real, recognize real)
    (Recognize real, recognize real, I'm so real)
    They recognize me in Winchmore Hill
    Primrose Hill, Brixton Hill
    You're not a bad boy, and I'ma die on that hill
    'Bout to show why a man recognize me 'cause
    (Real recognize real, recognize real)
    (Recognize real, recognize real, I'm so real)
    They recognize me on wave and trap
    They recognize me on grime and drill

    Go on then
    Go on then, go on then
    Skepta, forward slash, bad man ting all day long
    Grime, don't get it twisted
    You see two decks and a mixer
    But I see the bigger picture, don't test that Writer/s: Fred Gibson, Jospeh Adenuga, Peter Livingston
    Publisher: Universal Music Publishing Group
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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