Uh-Oh

(Verse 1: Manga Saint Hilare)
See I tell a man behave
Man ah rose up for the North-West G-H
E-double T-O so manaman B-A
N-G the 3 8's
Now man ah anywhere touch down anywhere
Flights over S E A S
Dem man dere want the PA
Yep, bank transfer send on the B A
E A S
Man keep shelling like he's running outta lead
Way I keep swinging and I keep fucking up the feds
Hype up, told 'em everybody dead
Dump out, everybody and anybody next
Flight of one back-pack and I get a bag on arrival
That's for me, one alone, I all
So I can't hear enemies or rivals

(Verse 2: Rival)
I hear that
But don't you dare try chat bars at a level you ain't near at
I don't wanna hear gas from none of these blood-clart MCs
Tell these man I'm a master
Darker, 16's harder
From day one I been a blood-clart barrer
Thought I was gone 'till I dump on tracks
Now even Notre Dame's got a hunch on back
Got what they lack: lyrics
Writing the sickest, illest
Tell these man I ain't really liking the scene
When I filter MCs all I see is image
Tell these dumb lickle dimwits I do not business
Cross lines and get your wig split
Season of headshot sure ain't finished
Ask yourself do you wanna play with it?

(Verse 3: Ghetts)
Back to back I'm back to that
With a hat back and a mac in lap
This is headtop
Which one of these MCs should I headtop?
Forehead, red dot
Soldier, twenty-one gun salute
At least you got a bad-boy send off
Analyse the game and see where they went wrong
So I got it covered
And they hang where they send from
Bars, where'd you get them from?
Flows, where'd you get them from?
Where the fuck's the respect gone?
I'll slap man I ain't sleep when I'm slept on
I'm on a level that they ain't never stepped on
This is Ghetto not Ghetts don
Speak up where's your chest gone
A lot of war made the heart in my chest strong
I'm on my Jack Jones
And I feel like I'm 10-strong
School more MCs than send bombs
And you ain't never gonna hear the end of
Man comin' around and letting off on them lot
Man was like "wargwarn fam"
And I was like "what? Where the fuck are we friends from?"

(Verse 4: Eyes)
Oi, you don't wanna bring drama
'Cuh pull out the sword like King Arthur
You'll have a limp after, won't walk properly
Have me and my niggas in your property
I don't trust man, I got a thinking problem
If I suspect it's you we can swing like boxing
Fuck bringing gloves in
My dusters are spiked like drinks with drugs in
You're a duckling, I'm a white swan
I come with a big sword that's quite long
Sliced arms put it on your toes
Nylon, all cut and can't say nothing
Tied tongue
My mate will chop 'em the blade got stuck in
You ain't on nothing
Victim's crying his face is gushing
The bitch is crying her makeup's smudging