Pirate

Devlin

This tune reminds me of the power of sets Dev's inside, what's good? Mic-check That mic looks battered Have to hold the wire up anyway 1-1-1, check, Devlin in the building Just landed inside Big up the phone line massive Texting crew, you know what time it is Listen This tune reminds me of the power of sets Dev's inside, what's good? Mic-check Big-up the listenin' crew locked in Technical problems sorted it's bless Lets [?] like fighters in rings All live on this thing I thrive on a test Came up in a fight with the best Stay locked, nah I spit more fire than the rest Sun-Tzu puttin' the art in war Some bouncer-like fellas on a party door Don't grab the mic, you ain't spitting no more And get a job going if you setting that [?] Back to back, we ran bar-for-bar The flow must be cold, when its time to spar I ain't know no rogues when I'm firing arms Pirate, but there's no hook, just bars DJ in the mix We're going to be taking you through for awhile It's that time Big up everyone locked in around town Hold tight Lewi White Check, check Who am I crafting a battleground, under the blackest cloud Where weren't no backin' down I'm rain with the ragged sound You think, lets have it now You ain't seen it, trash piling up Soon buzz, management's after subs So fuck, best dive or duck I ain't got a ticket for the train, no Jump barriers, too close to the game I got married to Will do my apprenticeship, and then bus 'Til then I ain't bringing this mic too close to my lips 'Cause it's covered in rust From a Premier set-up Went well wild when he started the web up But now you drop one tune And it might be a star, who's next comin' up Yeah, yeah, big up Syer B Just walked in the place Oi bruv, you can come and take over I need to get a drink anyway Show 'em what time it is mate Tell 'em what, tell 'em what, tell 'em what What, what Original spitter This one's for the oldscool listener 0-7-9-5-6-2-2-1-5-5-6 Give me a sign if it's crystal Rudeboys in the lift-shaft, setting up the transmitter Got two decks and a mixer, a bag full of dubs Some fucked up bars, a mag, a ten-bag And some Rizla And there's weed in the lungs I do Radio-sets with the realest ones Station set in the vacant drums High-rises and the deepest songs So give me ten missed-calls if you feel this one Twenty missed-calls and I will this one I rep where I'm from every time I go on, shout out to my crew locked on My bruv, the phone line's been pumpin' They want the reload They ain't havin' it though Tryna squeeze in them bars Out to all those silent listeners Out to everyone recordin' [?], nah I don't need it, keep it Let 'em take me back here [?] breathin' the heater's broken And there ain't no central heating It's freezin', I see my breath It just adds to the vibe I guess Then I get more drive, more meanin' I was raised to be first not last When I'm takin' part, and it might get heated To the degree that I see fit Get back on my Rinse: 1003 shit One more time so they're seeing Flipz And old-school fire's being lit Like someone just got me Pass me a bag and I'll finish'em properly Go hard or go yard I heard that said then and I weren't killin' 'em softly You know what were gone, were out of here Out to everyone who was tuned in Same time next week Big up the DJ up next Big up the MC's up next, peace

Written by: James DevlinLyrics © Downtown Music PublishingLyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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Pirate

Devlin

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