CHALLENGER'S RAP

• As a kid, I didn’t really do much
• I went school, all I did is play two touch
• In the break times cigarettes were twosed-up
• With yoots who abused my shoes ‘cos they ain’t new, but
• My Mum and Dad never knew about the part where
• You can’t wear the clothes that your brother wore last year
• And in my class there was times I could pass tears
• I passed fears and I learned to be a fast br’er
• ‘Cos when I come home all battered up and bruised again
• I couldn’t tell my Mum that they were picking on my shoes again
• And Mum and Dad they were fighting over loot again
• There wasn’t any food and all the money’s went on booze again
• And I was young and depressed trying to live and die
• Didn’t want to talk, all I’d ever do is sit and write
• It’s either that or I’ll be out trying to nick a bike
• With a couple cats who want the money just to lick a pipe
• I’m sick of life, too young to try and get a job
• Sick of telling God how I’m longing to be better off
• And tellin’ posh kids, “Your rings, blood, get ‘em off”
• To tell the truth I felt like I’d said enough
• We hit a phase where we all used to run with blades
• Underage doing pills in the jungle raves
• We was living out the pains of our younger days
• The broken homes, the abused and the runaways
• I don’t sleep well at night – and it’s no surprise
• I still see dead friends when I close my eyes
• I still play back the scenes of my own demise
• We was young tryin’ to lead out a soldier’s life
• Then I started hangin’ round with some older guys
• Dedicated to devestatin’ open mics
• We was fresh from the street and straight in it like
• Jump on the stage getting’ booed ‘cos my skin is white
• Next month went back and I’m still as white
• But when I rapped, they clapped ‘cos my skill is tight
• My reputation was fierce, I battled many men
• I’m from the Bury, da Bury and so we bury dem
• And in the cream of the crop I lived the Muddy Fam
• In it for the love of the game and not the money man
• And we was working the caves and sittin’ bunnin’ grammes
• Night came working the stage for half a dozen fans
• Another chapter in The Greatest Story Never Told
• Another merit we inherit from the pen I hold
• And we develop for a minute then the vision’s stalled
• And I was there throwin’ weed over prison walls
• We was deep in the street and deep poetry
• Back when the Mud Fam was Skinnyman, and Mo and me
• We’re selling weed from the morning till I go to sleep
• Comin’ up with new techniques just to show I’m deep
• And me and Farms we decide to divide the throne
• MacBaynes’ came along and took the title hold
• We put our voice to the outdoors on Lowlife
• Brainz was a nice guy we want to help him grow like
• Keep the money man, it came from our souls like
• Put it in your business, we’ll earn from our shows right
• And we ain’t rich but we dedicate our art to love
• He took the money now his memory his hard to jog
• He talks politics, talks like his heart is God’s
• But at the same time he’s ripping all his artists’ off
• I got disheartened, I didn’t wanna work no more,
• I wasn’t sure how to figure out my worth no more
• I go on tour to pay bills but I’m dirty poor
• I know they know when it’s time I’m gonna burst their door
• And every rhyme that I write is rehearsed for war
• Fully versed, I emerge with a thirst for more.