It’s who dares wins in the city
Sit pretty, Locked On, not Tripoli
Get dressed for the party, as I spit simile after simile
Got the latest Nikes on my feet
The streets merely reflect this bass line and beat
Lock on to 102.6, The Streets
Kronenbourg, double doves and herbs
Actions speak louder than words
Get fucked up, sat on the kerb, street geezers
Accept me as your own, let me make myself at home
I just ain’t a clone, still got the Monsta Boy ringtone though
Raised as a northern star, with a London Underground Travelcard