Aitch - On Your Marks (Intro On Your Marks - EP) lyrics

Yeah on your marks, you ain't ready for man
Yo

I said I'm sick with it
Fucking rip it till the beats finished
I spit an image when I pay the mic a visit
Got an evil sort of spirit but
I'm classy like a violinist
Even though the lyrics are explicit, fam
You need to get wid it
On your marks, I swear this is just the start
Right here and the finish line
Is so far apart but I'm grinding like Tony
Tell him "Don't phone me"
I can't class him as my homie

Put your trainers on
It's time to get the cake in don
When you hear the bang
Set off the blocks and get the racing on
When I write a tune I hit the
Booth and get to lacing one
How many MC's are overtaking? (None)
Fuck it, pick the speed up
I might need to lift my knees up
Nah, I ain't from Peckham
But I'm tryna get my P's up
Tell a man to ease up when I
Spit I switch the greaze up
Or I might come with it cold and
Move my engineer to freeze up (Ha ha ha)
I just holla'd at WhYJay, told him
I cooked up something fresh
He said "Why wait?" roll to the studes
I'll be there in a few I said when I
Drop this set man'll be like "Why Aitch?"
(Why) 'Cause I'm in Manny's top 5 and
There's no doubt about it
'Cause when I drop lines
I build a sound around it
Around guys that'll place the fist
Right where your mouth is
Yeah, I'm from north but I got
Dons located in the south bit's

Sick with it
Fucking rip it till the beats finished
I spit an image when I pay the mic a visit
Got an evil sort of spirit but
I'm classy like a violinist
Even though the lyrics are explicit, fam
You need to get wid it
On your marks, I swear this is just the start
Right here and the finish line
Is so far apart but I'm grinding like Tony
Tell him "Don't phone me"
I can't class him as my homie

When I bring out a tune
Everyone gets so gassed
That they ain't even realised
My work rates shit
I write bars when I want and
Take all the time I need to be honest
I don't think I know what work rate is
But if I put my mind to it
I could probably shine through it
When I'm feeling stressed
I play a beat and rhyme to it
You can send but why do it? 'Cause
You know that I slew it
If there's a big brick wall in front of me
I'll fly through it
Like, uh, fam I need this I'm hungry for it
Man don't want a feature
Don't want the white younger on it
Fuck 'em, YouTube I'm doing numbers on it
Beats so cold I need to put
A fucking jumper on it
Tell 'em if they want it they
Can come and get it, standard
Come through with a mic in
Front of bare bystanders
I don't know what you're thinking don
Your girl's got standards
Why d'you think that when you call
The bitch she never answers?

I'm sick with it
Fucking rip it till the beats finished
I spit an image when I pay the mic a visit
Got an evil sort of spirit but
I'm classy like a violinist
Even though the lyrics are explicit, fam
You need to get wid it
On your marks, I swear this is just the start
Right here and the finish line
Is so far apart but I'm grinding like Tony
Tell him "Don't phone me"
I can't class him as my homie