Close, close, wanna get close on the coast

Ghost, ghost don′t pose and I don't post

Close, close, wanna get close on the coast

Ghost, ghost

Pickin′ me a winner

Picky hair an' I was a little bit thinner

3310 with a customized ringer

I was tryna holla at Lavinia but she weren't ina

′Cos I was a sinner, thought I was a minger

Never had a Bimmer

Rollin′ through the ends on a stolen Aprillia

Waiting for the Dominos guy to deliver for a free dinner

Thought I knew it all I was just a beginner, never was a singer

I was on pirate radio way before I heard Mike Skinner

Wagwan killer, yeah, that's my nigga

Talk about race but its just way bigger

I ain′t gonna waste no time on Twitter

Done with the jibba, cry me a river

Say it to my face or say it to my trigger

You go figure, or reconsider, Indian giver

Lookin' for a chocolate girl with a hint of vanilla

And she can bring a Indian with her

I just want a bosom for a pillow

An′ I got a little bit o' skrilla

We can get a boat and we can get a villa

Or we can be on South Beach real nigga liver

All killer, no filler

I don′t wanna brag or boast

I don't cater and I don't host

When they ask what I do I say I do the most

Then I get ghost, on the coast like I am supposed

Don′t pose and I do not post

And that′s why these girls wanna try play me

Close, close, wanna get close on the coast

Ghost, ghost don't pose and I don′t post

Close, close, wanna get close on the coast

Ghost, ghost

Ah, ghost

And I'm not talkin′ about power

I was in HMP and I couldn't stop daydreaming about sweet and sour

I told them when I hit road this time, it′s gonna rain and shower

I paint pictures with words like Vincent Van Gogh

When he painted the sunflower

Back when Dizzee made dreams,

It was our age tryna make dreams come true

And in them things it would channel you

And I would roll deep with a pack of yutes

Weed and Rizla, pillar zoot

Drank cray like sizzla', that's the roots

Back then, man wore bubble coats into school and Timberland boots

Talkin′ about back when man had the cowboy ting

And the middle bit would spin

And if you made it bang near anything metal

All you would hear was ping, ping

Ghost, made man look like nearly headless Nick

This one′s gonna get messy like Lionel

Three way lops, that's a hat-trick

How are you a bad boy with no weapons

That′s like Harry Potter with no broomstick

How are you a trap star with a knife

But then can forget there's 36 in a brick

Please don′t glamorize jail like being on the wing makes you the Kidd

Ghost, that means in the background with a million quid

Close, close, wanna get close on the coast

Ghost, ghost don't pose and I don′t post

Close, close, wanna get close on the coast

Ghost, ghost