Straight Bars

[Intro: P Money]
Live and direct
Who's in charge?
Live on mic, you know who’s in charge
Better tell the boy lyrics for lyrics I'm...

[Verse 1: P Money]
Yo, Lord knows I'm down for my bredrins you won't even see me snake or diss a peer
You ain't listening properly if you heard disappear, bro I said diss a peer
I'm at the back with the real Bale money, defending the one with the gloves to get it cleared
The word to describe me is wired but I'm so far ahead, it's all blurry to them, it looks weird
I touch mic and get cheered
Them boy see TLC and get chaired
I keep one of them flat out, there's no spares
The moshpits at my gigs leave no one spared
I drop tunes that get played and get aired
Them boy there drop tunes and get aired
Beef with me is like a race to the top
You'll see a man get lift if he stares
Hadn't regretten what the text said
Never said a word, just got the Tec sent
My ex-saviours don't wanna war me cause I'm the sickest out of her ex men
Man can't send shots, I don't get them
I chill with henchmen plus hench men
So it's a next hype for an MC when your white gold chain tempts (Tempz) them
Age 16 when I bus' case
I was a crime director for fucks sake
I was a rude kid acting like a camera man cause I will set up and get you shot in one take
House parties, man was turning up at your mum's place
I was jacking man for free when a man told me charity work makes the funds raise
I try not to write anymore, the only time I write lines is when I tally up
I was shotting deli in the alley from an Ericsson, age 16 picking Harry up
Spin an MC round, 360 like you got the worst deal
You can't test me, it won't work still
The way I passed it, man's straight Özil

[Verse 2: Vortex]
Hold on, it's Vortex
Still in the hood, more or less
Hitting up back roads daily
There's a flag on the whip, Corvette
I'll squeeze your pip, core strength
They ain't got no heart, all pecks
Dem man have got me creasing though
Dorothy Cotton or Roger Moore neck
Who's that? New gat
Blu Tac, Vortex
2 2 wheels, war vet
They say I'm way before my time
Nah, fam, my flow's not been born yet
This shit don't make no sense
They run in the beef, hit the gym
Work everything and ignore legs
Your bar dry, your flow's wet
Keep up, are you listening?
Hold on, that's a slow death
They're like "Tex is cocky, fam"
He knows he's gone, that's a coke head
I get two wheels and a little buzz
That shit sound like a moped
Your boys lied, your flow's dead
Uh, I move smooth around the clock, fam
Got style like a Rolex
Still screaming "Free Titch"
Still in the hood like a cold neck
You can't be grilling, I bring the mill in
Still ain't heard one of them flows yet
I've got a new gat, you never knew that
That's so text
They're like "Tex goes hard with the rap
But I bet a nigga ain't grime no more"
I'll clap your head clean off of your shoulders
You can say hi to your spine, of course
I don't believe them lies no more
Man don't really wanna rhyme on war
Man wanna talk to me about grime
Where the fuck were you in '05, '04?
Where was you in '05, '06?
I was the mic man round my bits
I don't really care 'bout any MCs
That wouldn't have gotten no high five off Titch
I am it, fire spit
Get a reload and a silent flick
Man wanna doubt me, you can't doubt fire
Go clean up your house, you prick