Corn on the Curb Skepta (Ft. Chip & Wiley)

[Intro]
Everyday, bro, we've gotta stay battling
Gotta stay fighting, gotta stay striving
Gotta stay dreaming, gotta stay believing
Gotta stay scheming
Greeze!
My nigga Sucio Guapo in the building
Dex, greatness only

[Verse 1: Skepta]
I broke down a few more barricades
Got me a few more accolades
Used to look forward to the weekend
Now every day's like Saturday
Surrounded by stars
Come chill with the constellation
Then she asked me what my real name was
And killed the conversation
Sometimes I've gotta scratch my head
Like big man ting on a level
Only my mum and dad call me Junior
What makes you so special?
No Rolex timepiece
No Hublot kettle
But still I know when it's time to jump in the car
Put the foot to the pedal like
Yeah, I don't care about VIP
I've got very important places to be
While I'm asleep, I'm making a beat
Girls in the house getting naked for me
What I'm tryna say is basically
Never get a joke man mistaken for me
Corn on the curb if a man diss me
My niggas got the biscuits in T
Santa Claus used to miss my house
So I decorated my own Christmas tree
Ring man's phone if he think's it's beef
What do you mean, "who is this, blud?" It's me
My niggas been on crime
Don't get it twisted cause I don't beef online
My niggas violent, my niggas loopy
Something you ain't seen on Vine
I don't want a like, I don't want a follow
Diss me today, link me tomorrow
I've got goons that can't leave the country
Above the law, under obbo
I know pain, I know sorrow
I know empty, I know hollow
I just flew my Gs out to Amsterdam
And I told them "thank me tomorrow"
Cuh man have been in the kitchen
Experimenting with the whipping
And you see, the road ting and the music ain't mixing
Would've thought man was playing baseball
Way man are outside pitching
Never been a punk, never been a victim
Wanna hate on me? Wanna hate on Storm?
Fuck that, let the kings in