Lowkey - The Warning lyrics

One one, two
Check me out right here, yo

You are not the grime scene saviour
You sly weak hater
A little pop tart that owes Wiley favours
And doesn't really understand
These shystie majors
They sell your pop songs
To these nice teenagers
And don't get me wrong you might be famous
But they buy green acres
You buy neat trainers (Nikes)
You were more real as an ID faker
Make enough love songs and
You might see paper when you see 1
The label see a hundred crispy bills
That is what happens when you sign 360 deals
Give this chump a little chance
Punch you in his heart
Got signed for a chump then


Bumped for his advance
Getting hyped cos some 12 year
Olds felt your song
But what you gonna do when all
The little girls are gone
You'll be as frail as the
Songs you got wealthy from
And be a tiny little dancer for Elton John

You ain't even worth the ink in my fingertips
Does this little midget really
Think he's a lyricist?
To drink from my flippin sink is a privilege
Copy Jay-Z and make your fingers a pyramid
Keep making soulless music your fans buy
But jam your hype and hang
Tight with your damp rhymes
Hearing you is sad like watching ants die
But people know the truth
Behind your hand signs
Am not telling anybody to get hostile
This is just a hobby I feel
Sorry for this lost child
Chipmunk, Chipmunk, Chipmunk, Chipmunk
Lyrical skill isn't measured by your income
They tell me leave the kid alone
He's faker than silicone
My lyrics expose reveal the soul
Of this jigga clone little jigga minnie me
Didn't sleep just twitter beef
Still it's peak for this little
Meek in his skinny jeans
Should I snap fingers, end all tweeting
Take off my slipper and
Give parental beatings
Sword razor tongue, means your days are done
This yute is big headed in more ways than one
You diss vex but you spit wet Little Princess
Sony is searching for the next
Bigheads to pick next
You're not hard, little pop tart
Think you got bars u might top charts but
Lyrically u flopped hard
Silly voice pretty boy that
Shaves his eyebrows
Grime scenes very own amy winehouse
Your loopy lately, could you be crazy
What kinda man calls a rap song "Oopsy Daisy"
I'm a real mc they won't forget me
Fill up your bank account your soul is empty
If u getting vexed ask
Yourself what you represent
You can't get respect you took a
Bite of the devil's bread
And the money u made will
Mean nothing when you're dead
So think when you get that deep
Thought through your pregnant head
If u get depressed you can
Pay for next tattoos
Or phone up your mandem JLS to back you
Pick the wrong option
It's likely you got problems
You can't try me I'm not Wiley or Dot Rotten
Not the hardest MC far from the best rapper
Not in this scene but maybe on X Factor
Hide inside your house cos we're
Sick of your wining mouth
Every sentence will slay the
Secrets under Simon Cowell
Stay calm fool when the napalm fools
All the youths on your ends call u Hey Arnold
Gutless diva with a tough demeanor
How does it feel to be the UK's Justin Bieber
If you're a lyricist stop coming
With them poppy bars
Talk is cheap u can't walk
The street without your bodyguards
If money is nothing why is
An issue why you rhyme
Money is nothing can't take it
With you when you die
Make another track that says how
Much cash you get
It can't buy u skill credibility or happiness

I don't wanna see people talking
About "Fuck Chipmunk" after this
It's not about "Fuck Chipmunk", this
Is just a warning, yeah
If you keep acting like a boy
People are gonna keep treating you like a boy
If you act like a man
People will treat you like a man
Just because you got more money
And, you got a machine behind you
Doesn't make you a better
Lyricist than anyone what makes you a better
Lyricist is lyrical skill
And right now you need to choose what you are
Are you a lyricist or are you a popstar?
If you're a lyricist, do your thing
Say the word humble yourself