Dizzy Rascal Seems 2 Be Lyrics

Dizzee: Who's that who's that who's that...?

Girl: The dopest, flyest OG pimp hustler, gangster player hardcore m_________er living today. To be honest I'm totally and completely on his d___.

And you know this...man!

Verse 1:
It's the return of Dizzee Rascal.....Dem bwoi nah ready yet trend they could never set. Silence silence silence dat. stop that start that get that. Yeah you know, Going on dirty going on stank. Yo
Roll deep with these, put these MC's on deep freeze,
Hit these Whitney's and rip these, I'm like Busta we flip these, So Please
Don't rap with these, fearless, angry, sick MC's
Don't like Christine's or Britney's, Lala's or Tinky Winky's
And this one strictly for pickneys Old school afro dry white beats
Barclays Halifax we stick these, Endless gunshots we lick these
Trick these CID's with ease, touch mic MC's jump like fleas
Playa haters get chopped like trees, other boy rascals to other boy miseries

Chorus:
It seems to be cars, (and) cash (and) girls (and) head, and manners on the flames better keep your eye out for them feds
It seems to be phones (and) bling (and) raves (and) weed-pay up what you owe or else them boys will make you bleed
It seems to be DJ's, (and) MC's, (and) Gold rings, (and) Nikes we roll deep for the money we don't want no technicalities
It seems to be love (and) war (and) hate (and) life-harsh life, hustle life, thug life, street life!

Verse 2
So far from clean, play kiss chase with your aunt Maureen
Get rhymes get heard get seen Dizzee run tings like Idi Amin
Keep vigilant keep on guard, we chuck grenades at Scotland Yard
r_____ get kicked hard real hard, leave death threats in your birthday card.
"O my days what is he like?" Dizzee.com Dizzee.bust mic
World wide web./east end, Dizzee.com jack your girlfriend!
Co.uk at the stopper, Bare-foot Pimp\.holler
Frank Frasier .lyrical tank, Dizzee.com/going on stank

Verse 3
Ding dong, its on, fake MC's wanna sing my song
Wanna test hurry up bring it on; wanna take me for a mong? (Nar that's wrong)
Hit 'em with the Jeet Kun Do, like he don't know leave bullet holes in your moschinos clothes
Hot like where the weed grows, carry condoms for the hoes
Back front inside out, Dizzee got the floor to make a boy while out
Six foot deep you could never climb out, I smoke the weed till my mum finds out
Front back outside in, bare-foot kids sipping on ging-seng
Love making? Nah doggy-styling, in a dark park on a dark evening.

Chorus:
It seems to be cars, (and) cash (and) girls (and) head, and manners on the flames better keep your eyes out for them feds
It seems to be phones (and) bling (and) raves (and) weed-pay up what you owe or else them boys will make you bleed
It seems to be DJ's, (and) MC's, (and) Gold rings, (and) Nikes we roll deep for the money we don't want no technicalities
It seems to be love (and) war (and) hate (and) life-harsh life, hustle life, thug life, street life!