Skepta vs. Devilman
Skepta, Lord of the Mics, Devilman
Hold tight all the mandem inside the place
This is where it is happening yeah
Skepta, Devilman
This is the big clash right about now
This is how we're doing it, wow
Skepta, you look like you’ve got AIDS
You look like you’ve got HIV
You look like you’ve got Gonorrhea
All around your lips
'Cos you sucked out your mum’s punani
You look like you’ve got cancer
So clashing me is not the answer
So you're better of going back
To the strip club
Carry on being a lap dancer
Yeah, you’re not ready, you black Somalian
You’re not ready
Don’t even open your mouth blud
Before you say something stupid and
You get yourself buried
Wow, you’re not ready, you Bangladeshian
You’re not steady
You Ethiopian excuse of an emcee
You better keep bullshit in your belly
Yeah, it’s a 16 ting yeah
Ok, Yes man i’m bringing him because I
Knew he was alright let’s go, ok, Skepta
I’m not scared of DEVelopment
DEVelopment ain’t in the mafia
Not a Tai Omi Ay Wong Sun carrier
Devilman wouldn't even jump over
The train barrier so how can he be a bad man
When he pars with about 25 pricks
If I get Texas Chainsaw Massacre
You will get Freddy Krueger part 6 and
Final Destination part 3
Trust me I'll push your wig back
This ain't a fair clash it's a mismatch
You see what I did to the
Other MCs on my diss track
How can I clash Devilman?
Devilman ain't on my level man
After I murk Devilman
Put him with the other six, that's seven man
Give me a medal man, Devilman, sekkle man
You'll get eaten
In a lyrical war I can't get beaten
'Cause my lyrics are colder than Sweden
So Boy Better Know that it’s gun season
Don't think I'm wearing gloves for no reason
Kill Devilman and dump him in Neasden
My name's Junior, it's not Steven
I'll make your jawside look uneven
Yo this is how we're doing it yeah
That was big, that was big, that was big
That was big go on then, go on then
This is how we're doing it
Right about now yeah wunsen
Yo I'm like no other
Try come clash me, please don't bother
Put Skepta on the ground and dig out his eyes
And make him bawl for his mother
We don't like each other
Only 'cause I fucked his baby mother
That bitch was under the cover
She said the sex was like no other
Never judge a book by it's cover
'Cause I just leave a couple
Shots in your brother
And make sure I empty the clip in his face
Just to make sure the
Little prick don't recover
It doesn’t take long to discover
Skepta smells like no other
When I asked him to piss in
His face he was like
"go on then but pay me a lager"
It doesn’t take long to discover
Skepta smells like no other
When I asked him to piss in
His face he was like
"go on then but pay me a lager"
Wunsen, wunsen
Yo, draw for the tool, go on then, go on then
Think I'm a fool? Go on then, go on then
Draw for the mash, go on then, go on then
Still wanna clash? Go on then, go on then
Go on then wasteman! See? Shook! Go on then
I got war lyrics in my book, go on then
Go on then kiss my black foot, go on then
Yo, signed up to the gym 'cause I heard
Man are looking for me and my mates
After I’m done with pumping the
Weights I'm gonna buy
A stab-proof vest and put in the plates
I got so many stars and stripes I might
Buy a new house in the states
Every compliment my head inflates
I roll deep but I don’t wear skates
And I don’t like him, or his friend
Don’t make me have to bore his friend
Go on then, bring around 2 of your friends
I’ll just bring around 3 of my friends
But not no MC friends
I’ll bring around a couple unknown
Guys from my ends
You hold mic, they hold leng
And the only spitting they do is phlegm
So what d'you mean, what d'you mean you fool?
Go on then, go on then, draw for the tool
Think that you’re hard but
You’re soft like wool
Lick a man in the jaw side with the stool
I’m a real shower man but I still look cool
White gold chain and an iced out jewel
But he couldn’t jack me 'cause
I’m not Ja Rule
Nah rude boy, what d'you mean? Go on then
Wow, Skepta ah wah di rass
I never knew you sucked arse
You might as well fuck a duck's arse
You don't want me to draw for the
Ting and make a boy run fast
Bust your head with a pint glass
About yeah I fucked man's arse
You will never last
I heard that you feel up mans
When they're in the bath
Skepta makes me laugh
I gave him an ounce of skunk and he
Thought it was a 4 and a half
About £50 for a gram
You get £40 for 8 'cause you took a blast
About £50 for a gram
You get £40 for 8 'cause you took a blast
Oh shit oi big up the Birmingham crew
North London representing right now, okay
Yes blud, this is a real clash star
Levels are way high, okay
Big up my Meridian tugs
Lord of the Mics part two
See the level I’m on he wants to reach this
'Cause when I touch mic I’m the deepest
I’m the strongest, he’s the weakest
I’m on the A-list
You’re still struggling to get
Up on the C-list chop Devilman into pieces
I’m a showerman, you’re a penis
And your whole crew stink like faeces
Well now check the remix
See the level I'm on they wanna be on
'Cause I'm a star and I shine like neon
Lyrically gun a man down like Leon
And he’s a battyboy
So there's a lot of tings we can’t agree on
You got a big tune, put me on
I’m on a showerman ting, what's he on?
Come to your house in a Ford Orion
Draw for tool, go on then
Yo let me split Devilman's wig a likkle bit
'Cause Devilmans trying to get
Big a likkle bit but guys in Manny and Brum
Know you thief your
Style off Bassman and Trigga a likkle bit
My style's strong a likkle bit
You can't scare me with Wing
Chun a likkle bit spit two bars
Draw for the mash then Tai Omi
Ay Wung Sun a likkle bit
So don't fuck around, with Junior
If you never knew
This is Aftershock's new shooter
Sorry, Aftershock's new loser
Terror Danjah shoulda sent Bruza
You know Skepta, too much charisma
Bill up Devilman in a red rizla
Carry on, carry on, carry on, carry on
Alright then this is how we're doing it yeah
You tried to bring mans into it and that
Okay then yo, yo
Skepta the chance of you beating me in
This clash right now is reducing
I'm gonna make you wish that
You stuck to producing
And you're not even a good producer
Your girl looks like Medusa
Basically that's why I never 'scuse her
When I see her I have to excuse her
If you don't believe me ask Bruza
Or ask Terror Danjah
Basically no make up can change her
Skepta you're a prick, you're not major
Draw for the 12 gauge or 12 gauger
Sum wung san malai pun yo tai omi ay wung sun
Skepta's a battyman
I will end your career like Rattyman
If you want to take it further, and it's war
Chop off your head with a saw
I like to see blood and I need some more
Eject to the bottom of the floor chop her
When I see stop her if I had my gat I woulda
Wun wun mai lung i said shame on Skepta
Devilman's burning a flame on Skepta
Couple shots get flamed on Skepta
If he's dead I'll write my name on Skepta
Skepta's a battyman! Shame on Skepta
I'll put the blame on Skepta
Make police find cocaine on Skepta
That might just be more shame on him
Skepta's a battyman!
Yo anytime you see me wearing a glove
Boy Better Now I got the gun in my boxers
I don't wanna send Devilman to the doctors
I wanna win a MOBO, then go for the Oscars
There's only one Bassman
So I gotta lick down any impostors
Lick off your head like Guinness and Fosters
Can't take Skepta yo 'cause it's beef
Shine the red beam at your teeth
I just like to cause trouble and grief
Devilman can't win lyrical beef
'Cause he shitted in school and wiped
His batty with a leaf
Bare skidmarks on his brief
DEVelopment, one big cheek
Now he wants to come on Lord of the
Mics telling people that you're 'bout beef
You just tell tai omi ay wunsen lies
Hate tai omi ay wunsen guys
They can't even defeat me
S-K-E to the P T, A when you face
Your lips tai omi ay wunsen dry
You can't even defeat me
S-K-E to the P T, A when you face
Come out the place before your
Heads get bit off
Like a car you will get writ off
In half you will get split off
I don't know where you been
Hearing that bullshit off
DEVelopment busting off lyrics
Like Kalashnikov
From long ranges MC's get picked off
I got a chip on my shoulder
All i gotta do is let the chip off
Yeah, that why you shouldn't run your lip off
And you shouldn't buss guns if you
Can't fill the clip up
That’s why certain man slip up
Don't last long in a gunfight
Manna get shit up
Yeah, heads get pricked off
If I know where you live
Doors get kicked off
Then plenty of shots get licked off
Bill a spliff then a Hennessey gets lit up
Yo, that's why I sing all the songs I sung
I’ve been a street hustler from young
When I buy a 4 and a half
Put a crumb on my tongue
Wait for it to go numb
Me and Bossman we can never get stung
Any funny business put the lead to his lung
Can't school me about Whitney and (Bobby)
I used to put 13 scores in my mouth
And start chopping up a next ounce with H
Can't chat to Meridian about weight
Devilman wouldn't even know what to
Do with an eighth
He bought an 8 ball on the 24th
He still trying to move it on the 8th
Devilman don’t know about Tanitas with the
Batteries held in with Sellotape blud
He would have thought he was
Looking at the date of
Birth when I put my food on the scales
When I get shift I start biting my nails
But I've never ever been an informer
Never told tales i roll with 4 black males
And the feds better lock us in separate jails
Dizzee Rascal should have phoned my phone
We regulate all the class A sales
This is the final
I will split Skepta's head with a vinyl
Or tell him to suck his girls vaginal
Or pistol whip his stepdad Lionel
You're just a likkle prick
So I'll just box ya
Two snooker balls then I socks ya
Go get a sexy bitch to hold ya from a
Roof and give you a before she drops ya
Swiftly moving on
DEVelopment, I get enough crops yeah
My lyrics hit you in your headtop
Instantly like when somebody pops ya
When I MC I get other MC's pissed
Off like when a bitch flops ya
Let me tell you something
About Skepta's girl yeah? Yo, yo
She had sex too many times
And tore her uterus
So she couldn't have kids no more
Bet it was the stress on her internal organs
They couldn't take the stress no more
I'm not impressed no more
I don't think that it usually
Gets pressed no more
Funny that her chest is sore
I need to find a way to express this
It's not you it's me
Can't diss me or my family tree
You'll get a shank in your chest
With my front door key
Box in the face with my back door key
Draw for the leng, kill an MC
I got a black ski mask but I don't ski
And if you diss Wiley or Jme
I will come to your set like
What soundboy, who is it? Who is it?
Everybody get sprayed
I'm a hitman but I don't get paid
Two bullets in a wasteman's skin fade
Leave red stains on his
Clothes like cherryade
Brand new duppies have to get made
Make ya headtop explode like grenade
If you wanna draw for the blade
I will be like what Devilman
Who is it? Who is it? Who is it?
You don't want me to burn the flame on
Turn insane on
Thunder, lightning and rain on
If you want war, then it's game on
Using your head I'll bust a window pane on
It's not hard to explain
Make sure you get cracked like cocaine
Make a man cut you up like sugar cane
I grow like a flower when it gets rained on
I bring the pain on
You can never train on the
Ground that I train on
You can never come around me
With that chain on
End up with your head buss
And your chain gone
Couldn't fuck with me from day one
I got a black line, now I got a grey one
I play the game you don't wanna play don
So it's best that you just stay
Out of my way don
Yo, Skepta, Roller this is the war right now
Yeah let's go, Devilman, yo
Don't talk to me about karate
I will come to your birthday party
Slap anyone I see taking Charlie
Onto the beef like a soldier from the Iraqi
I'm with the Slew Dem army my name's Junior
But when I see them pub guys
They try call me darky
So I fight for my right like Marcus Garvey
Wearing a glove
Boy Better Know I got the gun in my boxers
I don't wanna send Devilman to the doctors
I wanna win a MOBO then go for the Oscars
There's only one Bassman
So I gotta lick down any impostors
I'll lick off your head
Like Guinness and Fosters
Can’t take showerman for Pocahontas
Skepta, you're not immaculate
You're not elegant
You got messed up hormones
Like you're pregnant
Yeah, you're not regular
You play division, I play premier
You probably got lyrics, but I got many-er
DEV, I've got fans in Kenya
If you want a CD manna got ten 'ere
Just a likkle bit of wun mai pun senya
'Cause I move too physical
Lyrically critical it's just typical
From far from despicable
Just like trainers my lyrics are pickable
Like punani my style's unlickable
When I'm on the radio I get transmittable
When I'm in a female then I get clitoral
No bullshit, yeah I mean literal
Devilman draw for the 'chete
Bullets start dropping down like confetti
But I won't bring a strap
If the beef is petty
Nah Devilman, I just draw for the 'chete
And I make your belly look
Like a bowl of spaghetti
Leave his lip bust and his forehead sweaty
I'll make him wish he
Never drawed the machete
Go on, you think you're ready?
Go on then Devilman, go on then
Draw for the gatty
I'll burn out your mouth like
A salt fish patty
Won't bring a strap if you're
Just a likkle batty
The machete will leave his T-shirt tatty
And I will make his belly look
Like a bowl of Basmati
Leave him with a sweaty forehead like a fatty
Still wants to be a hot head like Ratty
Go on then, draw for the gatty, go on then
Yeah, I will torture Skepta like
I play with toys
Torture Skepta like I play with toys
Cover up his mouth so it don't make noise
Then go, make sure he's tied to the bed
Cut his face and bring force to
His head and I dread
To see how much blood that I shed
Because I know most of the
Blood comes from his head
My favourite colours are purple and red
So you might as well say that Skepta's dead
But I’m torturing Skepta I’ll start
From his head and
Go all the way down to the toes
Rip out his scalp and then pull out his eyes
And then stick a big pole up his nose
Get rid of his clothes and burn off his toes
I love to torture sleeping hoes
Get underneath their clothes
And see the water flow
Wung mai lung sun you will get Skepta
You will get a wung mai lung den sung
You will get a wung mai lung sun
You will get a wung mai lung sun den jung win
Sen if you don't show me where the bling is
Oi Skepta, why you killing off Devilman for?
That's the word on the road
I know showerman in my postcode
That will smoke two spliffs
Go into devilish mode
Turn around and shoot Devilman in the face
Skid around the corner, like Yoshi and Toad
So for your own good, trust me
You don't want to see me on your road
Nah you don't want to see - go on then
Shiiiit
Written by: Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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