Chester P - The Bitches lyrics

This is real and I ain't
Nothing like a movie star
I was robbing when you run around for QPR
And now you're coming out your shell
And tryna tell me suttin i was spittin
They was snipping at your belly button
Acting gully, making noise like a smoke alarm
On a stage
Slap your face 'til I broke my arm
Getting big for your boots
'cause your grammar's heavy
Why you stepping when you told
Me you're a fan already?
Now you're dissin all my fam
And all aof Canonbury little fassy
Put you in your pram with teddies
I was doing burglaries when
You ran in wellies
And blowing bubbles in a party
That had brang in jellies
Blud you need to disappear
Like you was Makaveli
Bring your cannon to the 'Bury
Like you're bad and heavy
Big mistake to say my whole fam are fayries
You made my manor scary 'cause my
Fam are now your adversaries
All these brown heads are madder
Than a gang of yetis
Jab a needle in your neck just
For a bag of pennies
I'm interplanetary, London is my city though
Raised in the 'Bury but my
Second home is Pimlico
I run in Battersea and
Camberwell you little ho
Never would I diss the south
Side of the river bro'
I got fans from Paris to Slovakia, Jerusalem
Australia you're feeling like a failure
Instead of railing up
Go and put some records out
I'll leave your head without a
Neck before I'm stepping down
You and your pipe spend nights
With the Reaper innit
It's deeper, innit blud
Robbing for the fever clinic
I heard you robbed your own friend
(Chemo) and left his flat converted
He went away
You sold his studio to "Crack Converters"
And that's a man who helped you
Out and would've backed your purpose
That's the place of no return
Until you scratched the surface
All this talk about crime I'm a criminal
Way before your time, making me original
Making you a duplicate
Fucking with the nucleus!
I been in the game since
Mickey's sold root beers
Now you're running round and calling
On a wild one
Calling out my tunes when it's me
You got your styles from
You dutty scallywag
Smelling like a fanny rag
Calling out my name like a backpacking anorak
Talking shit about he's gunnin'
And he's fightin'
And he's running with his knife ting and
They run him out of Brighton
Blud! I'm gutter
There ain't nothing here that's middle class
None of us are chi chi
And you're watching man a little hard
A little vision now you're thinking
That you're living large
Never make the king
The most you'll be is just the kid in charge
And I'm the father figure, blud
You should've figured hard
Bring the bigger bars
The bigger bars they leave the bigger scars
And in Battle Scars
You was in my space quick
Blud your halitosis nearly gave a
Man a face lift
Your insecurity led to speculation
If I cussed you and your
Sides on some far-away occasion
I never dissed the man, that's no elaboration
He told me he's a fan
And 'can we do collaborations?'
I was sitting there with my
Mind on some better things
Then I get a ring and
I hear the final evidence
Here we go again, the trials of a veteran
You can bring your dogs blud
I'll set a fucking vet on them!
And careful how you talk
'cause you never know
Any man can come and put a
Bug up in your telephone