aiight brixton

u nice hardly, streets regard me quality like talib kweli/
perpetratin i'll leave u shakin like muhammed ali/
lyrical posion my skull is the prison a threat to the livin/
shots thru the unforgiven, i'm a christian but known for sinning/
so dont try spittin no nonsense just to get me pissed/
cos ur talent like loch ness monster it just doesnt exist/
u and ur fake thug image so nice i hate to spoil it b/
but the only struggle in ur life is lifting the toilet seat/
most of u british emcees get shook wen they come up against me/
and dey lay down swiftly like a hooker i just gave fifty/
raps holyfield, i go round for round no matter who i'm 'gainst son/
I'll be screamin 4 u 2 'stand up' more than the new ludacris jump/
temperatures risin', bullets flyin, wen we collidin u dyin'/
the one for violence, u perspirin, but i'm not even tryin/


cudda been betta but i been away doin me 4 like a year.

holla

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2 Tyma AKA Boy wonder