The Blow Back - Giggs, Stormzy, Dubz

Get banged from the blow back

Man better show that cheese, bang bang nigga, Kodak

Man says it’s cold outside, but man’s prang, where my coat at?

Man slang, where’s the coke at?

Man wanna hang themselves, still bang, where the rope at?

Need ice for my drink, she ran, brang me a coke pack

Tell a nigga take notes, I made him hand me the notepad

Shit popped to bananas, I might pop to Bahamas

Man’s living that life, I’m going shops in pajamas

I leave pops in apartments, I might pop to the barbers

I just stopped at the marge’s and dropped Tyler and Marcus

I just jumped out of bed, I heard a knock from the gardeners

I said no, not today, and what’s good?

You’ve alarmed us

Captains and corporals, man rock with commanders

I could’ve rocked the Armani, but man dropped the Gabbana’s

Back to the OG rap, scrap that acoustic

Back to the OG trap, yeah that kind of music

So take all your hats off, slap them at Whoo Kid

Back with them two packs, yeah, that nigga new BIG

Yeah I’m back nigga, new Giggs

Anyone can get it, old boys or the new kids

Yeah, I’m back and exclusive, yeah, I’m back and abusive

I used to mack with the burger, but now I’m back for the sushi

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang

Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang

Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang

Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang

Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang

Yo, used to run around with a whole lot of food

Ain’t got to trap, niggas know what I do

Sitting in my yard with a big boy spliff

And a portion of chips and a phone full of nudes

Scumbag ting, honey, I’m sick

Rudeboy, I can get gully like Blittz

Rule number five, man, you know we never mention the price

And I treat that money like Flipz

And I swear down, niggas always lying in their rap hooks

Probably couldn’t tell me how a strap looks

Bro 6ix got the tunes on his hard drive

So I tell him put the riddim on my Macbook

Yeah, they love it when I go in on a grime beat

They love it when I do it cause I rap good

Man, I never used to have no trainers

Now I’ve got bare, that’s word to my black foot

Shutdown Twitter, my nigga, it’s peak

Doing like a million views in a week

You ain’t really fucking with the powers I’ve reached

Brothers in the church like «young nigga preach»

I ain’t even got to try prove what I’m on

Name’s Big Mike, I do what I want

Dem man talk 'bout the work that they mash

But the truth is dem man usually front

So I fuck up the game on a psycho ting

Don boy there on a giro ting

Coco Pops and a morning spliff

Two slices of toast on a Milo ting

Pen in my right hand, Biro ting

Big whips, stylo ting

Dem man are likkle like a micro SIM

Some wasteman Toyota Aygo ting

I go sick, nigga, I go in

Sounds of the skeng on a Spyro ting

Fire on the high road, fire on the back street

Anywhere I go, it’s a pyro ting

Girls go loose when the lights go dim

Might go Keyshia’s, might go Kim’s

I could go Charlie Sloth or go Tim’s

Go to the barber shop and get trims

Then I tell man you can miss me with the cyber-chat

Cause niggas just talk but I’m fine with that

And man wanna war on my Instagram

You see, I’d love to but I’ve got a flight to catch

Hashtag merky, I’d die for that

The peng tings want Big Mikey back

Saw my mandem blow and run the game

I thank God that I was alive for that, like

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang

Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang

Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang

Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang

Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang

Rap titan, black Tyson

Strategizing with niggas I’m categorized in

A bag of pies in the kitchen, go grab a slice, then

Got consignment from bruddas who seek asylum

I’m the fireman, fuck, I need a siren

Put an instrument to your neck, just like a violin

Them niggas lying, them flows, they didn’t sign them

That dope ain’t got them dialling, their sofas ain’t reclining

I’m like in the 90s

Make your baby mother go shop in her nightie

No soft shit, just pain here

Man mosh pits like rock gigs

Damn, watch Giggs, this ain’t fair

Man drop kids like daycare

Man shot shit, man shape here

Man got digis, wait here

Got Rizlas, wait here

Got deliverers, wait here

Move over when I change gear

I’m like Rudolph nigga, I’ll rain, dear

Just two of my niggas in the rer-ter

Beat gargoyle, sweets hard-boiled

These neeks can’t toil

Why?

My Gs are loyal

Not a baller but a brudda makes calm coil

Got plants in soil, plus I dance in oil

And the buj is running clean off of France’s foil

Mr Officer, no comment is the answer for you

And the buj is running clean off of France’s foil

Mr Officer, no comment is the answer for you