Composer : Skepta/Fred Gibson/Peter Livingston
Open up your bedroom door
Let your mum hear this
Introduce her to the music, yeah
(Stand right there, I wear my own garm's)
(Man see me on road, and want arms)
(Tell them shut your , this not )
(Tell them shut your , this not )
Tell them shut your , you're not bad
No, you can't son me, never ever lost in a clash, you're mad
Try diss me on my family tree, alright we could go dad for a dad
(Like Skepta, why you rockin' so many MC's?)
'Cause they don't know about greaze
I was really in the field with the G's
We were dissin' out wax on trees
My first wack came in a boxin' glove
Got my second one for some weed and P's
Why lie? Tell me the reason, please
That ain't gon' impress me 'cause-
(Real recognize real recognize real recognize real recognize real, I'm so real)
The recognize me in Winchmore Hill
Primrose Hill, Brixton Hill
You not a bad boy, and I'ma die on that hill
'Boutta show why a man recognize me 'cause
(Real recognize real recognize real recognize real recognize real, I'm so real)
They recognize me on wave and trap
They recognize me on grime and drill
You not a bad boy, and I'ma die on that hill
Allow it, man
I wanna get my bar off, man
No, I wanna get my bars out, please, no more wait up, man
Please, man
Young SK, I was goin' insane
To go radio I had to walk in the rain
Tell me what you know about surf in the train?
No illogical thinkin', had stress on the brain
One time I had to murk eight MC's
Bettin' me money, they won't test me again
Before I did fit pic's, I been a lyricist
Had to make 'em put some respect on my name
(Like Skepta, why you rockin' so many MC's?)
That was the word on the curb
I don't bend so how can I get curved?
Private jet, I was flyin' with your bird
Every other lyric you're talkin' about guns
Man, you ain't got straps, stop lyin', you're a nerd
Said you was a bad boy, blood, say word
I went to your ends, that's not what I heard
(Stand right there, I wear my own garms)
(Man see me on road, and want arms)
I still got step on my 1's. I'm so calm
You talkin' like you know the jewelers, you don't
(Tell them shut your , this not )
(Tell them shut your , this not )
Talkin' 'bout crashin' out, you're not Swarmz
Real recognize real, the way it do me no harm
(So notice, that's brought me, will recognize me when I'm forty, like, I'm so real)
From Australia, all the way to Brazil, I got fans sayin' I'm the G.O.A.T. still
Don't come to my show if you're tryna be cool and chill
Your drink might spill, end up in the moshpit, hands in your grill
Flow so sick, you might need a NyQuil
[Chorus]
(Real recognize real recognize real recognize real recognize real, I'm so real)
The recognize me in Winchmore Hill
Primrose Hill, Brixton Hill
You not a bad boy, and I'ma die on that hill
'Boutta show why a man recognize me 'cause
(Real recognize real recognize real recognize real recognize real, I'm so real)
They recognize me on wave and trap
They recognize me on grime and drill
Go on then
Go on then, go on then
No more
