Demi God was a street single that made it onto the Lord of the Mics IV album, which was released in December 2010.
Lord of the Mics is grime collection that comes out once a year to showcase the best of UK Grime.
[Verse 1]
Now, I'm the fuckin' Demi God, tonight I'll be your host
Listen as I say these prayers and please join me in a toast
All these niggas chattin' shit, 'bout how they moving with that toast
When the truth is really most, would not say boo to a ghost
See I'm a ghost, cocaine money, buys you houses by the coast
We get it in off them boats and then they stuff it up their nose
Somewhere in between I'm cutting that up, yeah reduce the dose
It's not recommended, but fuck it though, it's got me making loads
I got baseheads with no Methadone, and no fixed abodes and
They're blowing up my phone, you know I got 'em speaking in codes
We're on the roads with more envelopes than the guy who drops off the post
And those feds know I sell these bombs, they keep me on my toes
I always come out smelling of roses, they can't catch me, they've been close
Although a whole bottle of BO can't get the smell of crack out my clothes
I don't condone the way that I roll, nah it's just the life that I chose
Not many friends, too many foes, they wanna see a tag on my toes
[Chorus]
Bible on my desk
Idols on my left
Dreaming of survival as I take my final breath
You see my rivals want my death
They must be Mutt and Jeff
I told you all already that there ain't nothing left....
You see, I'm really dead, I'm really dead, I'm really dead
You see, I'm really dead, I'm really dead, I'm really dead
You see, I'm really dead
[Verse 2]
Family hate me, that's a fact
It's cool though I can take the flack
Dad's side hate me cause I sell cracks
Mum's side hate me... cause I'm black
To them I'm just some dirty nigga, hurts them more to know that I stack
Ask around that's thirty nicker, letting you know right off the bat
Yeah, skeets and dirty nickers, all these brasses in this trap
Selling their arses for these rags, I'm partial to a nice rack
But her figure helps my figures, ain’t no chance I’ll fall off track
Man get gassed after they tap, it's strictly business, that is that
See, I'm a fucking wrong'un, selling bitches, selling pollen
Selling sniff so take a whiff, clear your lines like Jan Vertonghen
Bud bunning heads or bonging, guaranteed my food is pongin'
But you best just pay your tab or we'll be around for your belongings
I'm off my fucking noggin', but these stupid cunts keep boggin'
Blood I'm yet to hit full pace, see I'm not even joggin'
Take your bird to Parkview Park quick, for a spot of doggin'
Out the window she be bobbin'
Kids at home and they're just sobbin'
[Chorus]
Bible on my desk
Idols on my left
Dreaming of survival as I take my final breath
You see my rivals want my death
They must be Mutt and Jeff
I told you all already that there ain't nothing left....
You see, I'm really dead, I'm really dead, I'm really dead
You see, I'm really dead, I'm really dead, I'm really dead
You see, I'm really dead
Death sentence on my head
Twenty tenses on my bed
Bags in my wardrobe
I'm buzzing off my meds
You see, I'm really dead, I'm really dead, I'm really dead
You see I'm really dead
[Outro]
Yeah
Cas
The Demi God
JL Saunders
Yeah, yeah, yeah