(Who's dat? Who's dat? Who's dat?)
The dopest, flyest, OG, pimp, hustler
Gangsta playa, hardcore mother fucker living today
To be honest I'm totally and completely on his dick

(And you know this man)

It's the return of Dizzee Rascal
Dem boy nuh ready yet, trend makin' never set
Inside, outside, inside, outside
Stop dat, start dat, get dat
Yo, you know
Going on dirty going on stank (yo)

Roll deep on these, put these Mc's on deep freeze,
Hit these, wit these and rip these,
Come like Busta, we flip these
So please don't rap with these
Fearless, angry, sick MC's
Don't like Christine's or Brittany's
Lalas or Tinky Winkys
And this one strictly for pickneys
Old school afro dry white knees
Barclays. Halifax, and stick these,
Headless gunshots, you lick these,
Trick these, CID with ease
Touch mike mc's, drop like fleas
Player haters get chop like trees,
Come a boy rascal, to a boy miseries

It seems to be cars and cash and girls and peds (uh)
And manners on flame, better keep an eye out for them feds (uh)
It seems to be phones and bling and raves and weed (weed)
And pay up what you owe or else them boys will make you bleed
Seems to be DJ's and MC's and gold and Nike's
We roll deep for the money we don't want no technicalities
It seems to be love and war and hate and life
Harsh life, hustle life, thug life, street life

So far from clean
Take his trace, to your aunt Maureen
Get live, get heard get seen
Dizzy run tings , like Idi Amin
Keep vigilant, keep on grant
We chuck grenades at Scotland Yard
Retard gets kick hard, real hard
Live death threats on your birthday card
Oh my days what is he like
Dizzee.com, Dizzee.bustmic
World wide web./eastend
Dizzee.com jack your girlfriend,
Co.uk outlaw scholar
Deaf kick back slash dot holler
FrankFraser.lyricaltank
Dizzee.com/going on stank

It seems to be cars and cash and girls and peds (uh)
And manners on flame, better keep an eye out for them feds (uh)
It seems to be phones and bling and raves and weed (weed)
And pay up what you owe or else them boys will make you bleed
Seems to be DJ's and MC's and gold and Nike's
We roll deep for the money we don't want no technicalities
It seems to be love and war and hate and life
Harsh life, hustle life, thug life, street life

Ding dong it's on
Fake MC's want to sing my song
You want to test hurry up bring it on
Wanna take me for a mong? Naw, that's wrong
Hit them with a Jeet-Kune-Do, Aikido blow
Leave bullet holes in your Moschino clothes
Hot like weather, we grow, carry condoms for the hoes

Back, front, inside, out
Dizzee run a flow to make a boy wile out
Six foot deep you can never climb out
I smoke dat weed 'til my mum finds out
Front, back, outside, in
Barefoot kids sipping on ginseng
Love making? Naw, doggy stylin'
In a dark park, when the dark in being

It seems to be cars and cash and girls and peds (uh)
And manners on flame, better keep an eye out for them feds (uh)
It seems to be phones and bling and raves and weed (weed)
And pay up what you owe or else them boys will make you bleed
Seems to be DJ's and MC's and gold and Nike's
We roll deep for the money we don't want no technicalities
It seems to be love and war and hate and life
Harsh life, hustle life, thug life, street life

I have the feeling that you love me

Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): Dylan Kwabena Mills