[Intro - J Spades]
Ladi dadi (Slick Rick)
We likes to party
We don't cause trouble
We don't bother nobody (the beat boss)
[Verse 1 - 2Pac]
Black cotton, steady stressin', Smith & Wessons, count my blessings
Class is in session: the worst question is the first question
Why do we work like slaves sweatin' blades to an early grave?
Never got paid but still we slave (in the nine tre')
Answer that, then answer this too
Love's gonna get ya, you know it's true – life's a bitch, true?
You best to backtrack and try to act black and live
Not to be phony and positive but why be negative?
What's the matter, G? Black cat got your tongue?
Fat track got you sprung, now you're hung?
Do ya feel me? Dum dum diddy, is it me?
Attempt to reach each and every brother on the streets
If not peace, then at least let's get a piece
I'm tired of seein' bodies on the streets deceased
Lookin' through my highschool yearbook
Reminiscin' of the tears as the years took
One homie, two homie, three homies – POOF!
We used to have troops, but now there's no more youth to shoot
God, come save the misbegotten
Lost ghetto souls of Black Cotton (in God's eyes)
[Verse 2 - J Spades]
Head Nigga in Charge
East London, call me big darg
Where I come from, niggas don't live long
Had to sell drugs for my income
Spent ten years in Kingston
Then I catch a flight, come-a England
Name ring bells like ding dong
Cause I'm stepping on the city like King Kong
Yo, rappers wanna link up
Boy, you're doing everyting wrong
Millions of bars on the F64s
But you can't make a big song
Now it's my phone them a ring, don
Tryna get my style and my lingo
Cause the word on the roads is Spades gonna blow
And they're waiting for my single
Nigga lick the jackpot like bingo
Popping like Pringles
Beating up your gyal when you link up
Cause bad bitches are in tow
Now you know I'm old school like Flintstones
Now you know how the ting go
Well my niggas let the ting go
Everybody haffi breeze like window
[Verse 3 - Wiley]
I walk in like who disagrees
I'mma KOG for anybody in the scene
I'mma stay ’03 cos I was bobby with a dream
But now its a reality bob and then I weave
You do grime but stop it when I breath
I go to the gym and I feel like rocky when I leave
Man feel stocky when I leave
Don't won’t ever sound sloppy when I speak
I'm wrecking on the beats
Sour sweet I do the same thing for the whole of the week
Said I ain't King them man have got a cheek
Star in the game me I never had a peak
All I really gotta do is get a bit psycho
Give out the riddims to the DJ’s I know
Then I come back in a couple of months check reports and infos to power like hypo
I should have GREY HAIR the way I work every hour that God sends
I got a gyal from all over odd ends
That’s why I go straight to where the job sends
All over England the top ends
The middle and the bottom won’t stop when
Man step into a brace with the thugs dem
Riddims and producer top ten
Chop dem run up in the place like what then
Them lickle dibby Mic styles man a man already got them
Too man bull in a de pen I gotta stop them
Take pics I don’t like them I crop them
Too pure in the game so when I come across another artist I can’t knock them
If I see a kid who don’t know jack shit
Tell him put down the knife and the Glock them
Ramp or skid on the riddim skate around tracks I cling to the riddim
I wanna sound right on the riddim
Run up on a spitter and light upa riddim
I’m tight on a riddim
Ca man a top flight on a riddim
MC s wanna fight on a riddim
Yeh its what I’m like on the riddim
Man a do it like swoosh Nike on a riddim
[Outro - J Spades]
Ladi dadi (Slick Rick)
We likes to party
We don't cause trouble
We don't bother nobody (the beat boss)
