Khalas Krept & Konan (Ft. RA)

[Intro]
Yeah, RA
(You know what time it is)
Krept, Tally
Mad ting, sad ting
Been real (cool, maniac)
(My brudda)
Greazy ting
(Play Dirty)
Every fucking time
Ready for it
How many times?
I've got dargs that pop off semis for it
(Fuck all these youts, gas)

[Verse 1: Krept]
Tally the madman
Any MC, I'll khalas man
Krept, Tally, badman, Afghan
Fuck anyone coming at man, what?
Spin who? Fuck that, man's on job
Sixteen spun you, sent man shop
Which yout? Come then, bet man flop
None of you mugs can tek man's spot
Long way from Gipset Tally
No BRITs, no GRAMMYs, Christians, akhis
Kids, no daddies, pissed in alleys
Spliffs and ammi, sticks and ballies
Clips and strallies, rinsing maggies
Lifting fassies, chip from cabbies
Linking baddies, gripsing Abbie
Tits and batty, dicks and fanny
Gyal move slutty, I'm ringing her for the ucky
Cats in Surrey, my niggas still in the gully
Macs, no flurry, you niggas thinking it's funny
Till the rocket's out the pocket and all up inna your tummy
Where's all the Charlie you selling up in the party, nigga?
Where's the Cavalli, your money and the Versace, nigga?
Where's all your honeys? Say that you get the punani, nigga
Now we getting money, we must be Illuminati
Krept, Tally, deep within the streets, miss him
G, listen, I eat riddims, I'll keep spinning
Sneak dissing, keep digging, I'll Meek Mill him
Peak for 'em, keep killing, I'll reaper him
Best in the country, beg someone touch me
Skets wanna suck me, text me for uck, G
Feds on a fuckery, tek 'way my young G
I don't give a fuck if Metro trust me
I can't believe this shit
They compare me to wack MCs, neeky pricks
I'm from that south side era, man are G for dis
That RA gangster grime, that greazy shit
It's all real
They can't tek man's sauce still
Free up Fems, Weeps, Snap, Goddy
Fam, they're all hill