Bugzy Malone

You know

Mr SnoWman on production

Watch this, I got a brand-new three bedroom crib

Spotlights in the ceiling, it′s sick

Got a beanbag in the computer room

All I need now is Grand Theft Auto: Six

Got an office and everything cocaine white

In the morning, it can get too bright

But it doesn't affect me these days

′Cause I've been staying up way too deep in the night

Thinking about before it all went bad

Before the day I met my real dad

Before I knew about money and bills

And how they both made my mum get sad

Sat counting about 25 bags

I'm running out of elastic bands

′Cause It turns out, when you make money

On the road there′s nothing you can do with the cash

So I jump in the S-Line driving fast

Hope I don't bump into my step-dad

′Cause they say mental abuse is worse

Than physical abuse and I wanna get him back

But I don't wanna do another custodial sentence

In a four-by-four pad

And I gotta take this time to apologise

To my best friend ′cause we almost crashed

Let me try and explain

It's intricate because I′ve never been plain

It's intimate because I never contacted a counsellor to get rid of this pain

I walk with it and now I'm going insane

Losing control of my own brain

Watching documentaries on serial killers and feeling that I can relate

Do you find that strange?

Yeah? Okay, well let me get this straight

If I get a life sentence or I don′t make it

It′s 'cause I could not handle the pain

I don′t wanna hear nobody complain

About that's good talent gone to waste

′Cause if I didn't go through what I went through

You would have never downloaded my mixtape

So let me confide in you

Let me get it off my chest

Turns out no matter how many tracks I make

I still can′t handle the stress

But I don't watch all the indirect's

True say man might see me as a threat

I don′t mind going out as a legend

As long as I′m known as Manchester's best

So picture the scene

I′m sitting on my corner sofa in peace

Until I got a call

"Have you seen yourself in the papers? You're wanted by the police"

And I was like, "What?" And it was hot

But do you wanna know what was a lot?

The night before was the night I went on Twitter

And had a direct message from Sloth

Just my luck

Let me do a Vincent van Gogh

′Cause you know I paint pictures with words

And I've still not published one book

I was in Panacea tryna get to the bar

And my man didn′t wanna let me past

Pushed me into a family of brothers

Before you knew it I'd already been cracked

But let me remind these fools

Into the devil I turn

They stepped back, I stepped forward

Play with fire, and you're gonna get burned

But I must apologise in advance ′cause I didn′t want it to end so bad

See what happened from there was loose

I was in the Manchester Evening News

He said he got violently attacked

Outside in a taxi, he was whacked, and coulda died

But that's how you know what the papers tried

It was self-defence, that′s a blatant lie

I'm stereotyped

And do you wanna know why? I′m a different guy

When I was about eight

My mum moved to an area that was heavily white

I was in school looking like Wesley Snipes

Ben Sherman's and a second-hand bike

Feeling like a doughnut

′Cause I'd already been stabbed by the time I was year nine

Mum didn't want me to see Moss Side

Told me that too many people died

Between like ′91 and ′99, there was a gang war and violent crime

My uncle's face got torn out by the pellets of a shotgun like Frankenstein

I was sat with him in an M3 that could do 0-60 in 4.5

One hand holding the steering wheel

Moving quicker than the Batmobile

Driving around Cheetham Hill when I was about nine

Back when the hood was real

A villain, taken Securicor boxes

And I don′t care if it's hot

They don′t mean Russell Crowe

When they mention the gladiator in the gang war book

The first guy that I ever looked up to he was like Batman without the suit

Now it's my turn to try and put Manny on the map, I just hope I can do it like you

Hope I can get one million views

Hope that I never get caught with food

I hope that Charlie can breathe alright in the smoke

′Cause I set fire to the booth

When I realised that grime was English hip hop, forget about all the tunes

Forget the playlist, I wanna go down in history like Tutankhamun

Bugzy Malone

Leave that playing

I dedicate this one to Dane

My little cousin

He didn't make it

Rest in Peace, fam

See you soon, my brudda