Yo', it's Songer
Big up BL@CKBOX, big up Reading
Outside the box, yo'

You are not on the same level as I
These bars will make your adrenaline rise
And when I'm inside
I've got bad boys showing their feminine side
They're jealous of my potential, to make the world shake like ketamine highs
And if man's salty, I'll pepper him twice
If talent comes down to melanin, why
Am I so much harder than you?
Picking up green like a gardener do
Stardawg I do, I put half of the Q
In some fat off plate and start sparking a zoot
And now I'm in venting mode
I'm inventing most of the flows you know
When the clothes you own I've already worn
The futures here, I'm already born
My BL@CKBOX is attracting fans
Don't rate good youtes acting bad
Mans got bars, so I chat them facts
So I wrapped them grands in elastic bands
You hold food like plastic bags
Because you love dizz like Raskit fans
My team are ready to start, you can see me shaking the captains hand
Mans pulling up in a blacked out Audi
Acting rowdy, badmen round me
There's a party at my ex's yard
But the slag don't shout me
Man don't doubt me
Man chat shit so I slapped him loudly
Smacked him proudly
Man's too cold, get a chapped lip round me
Man get racks in now, G
If I ask you name a youte that's harder
Man bet a tenner that you don't answer
Never seen that youte at the after
My mans fucked off a zoot and lager
Wasteman!
Can't hack a zoot and a Stella
Swing man round like a human propeller
And if his girlfriends cute, I'll tell her
'Cause she ain't going home with you
I spit bars, I'm chosen to
Gonna make that last like frozen food
Be the best in the world, I'm hoping to
It's overdue, bare heads turn when I'm rolling through
Still cold in June
Got bare notes, can't fold in two
Don't chat shit, you're poking who?
Why you lying for?
I stand out if I'm indoors
If you diss my marge, get flying jaws
Just wanna bring guys on tours
Man's angry now
You'll get dropped like hand me downs
Nobody got better bars than Songer
Two years time mans in town
Mans pulling up in an all-white Rari'
All night party; call my Barbi'
Spit bars like Dave, kickball like Vardy
Mans cray kray, call that Tom Hardy
Can't out bar me
Man get bummed, no white on khaki
Got no filter, call man Marley
White and strong, call man Charlie
It's S-O-N-G-E-to-the-R
Got the best flow, man bring heat with the bars
Girls leave mine at six in the morning
But swear down no sleep in the yard
Always rolling zoots and biftas
No guns, I use my fingers
I am outside the box
Like David Luiz when he shoots from distance
Hop on the track and boss the tune
Since part one had lots to do
Yeah new creps mans copped a few
When I see red lights, no prostitutes
Hop on the track and boss the tune
Since part one had lots to do
Yeah new creps, mans copped a few
And I seen red lights
Since day one man has kept it thermal
Link your girl dressed in purple
She said be there or be square
And let's just say that I kept it circle
Steal your girl then beat her best friend
Bars 'bout FIFA, the girls don't get them
Check them, name a circle like our one
And I will finesse them
Lyrics and bars no one can boy me
Man like cows, them pats come noisy
Catch man 'lighting it up with
Franklin, Luckman, Luke and Boycie'
Catch me with the whole of the team
Colder than me? Don't know what you mean
No lower degrees, I'm frozen it seems
You are not bad with snow on your jeans
No, you ain't all that
Leave your face all flat with a baseball bat
Shot draws, ain't on that
But I see more food than a table mat
So go back watch part one
As your girl pops up when that's watched
Don't argue whether that's hot, that's part one or part two of the BL@CKBOX

Ya dun-know
Jheeze

Yo', outside the box, listen

I'm jumping on this track
Bout to chat a load of grease
Smacking loads of G's
Whenever they're chatting loads of breeze
Claim they're doing road and claim they're backing loads of beef
But they're sat at yard, whilst I'm stacking loads of P's
If you don't rate what I'm doing, I couldn't give one fuck
Your girl wishes you was me, but that's just tough luck
And now she's staring at me, bruv
It's like she's lovestruck
I'm getting straight red cards because the studs up
Songer, why you been gone?
Need that new sick song
Eyes are always flipping red
Think they had two ticks on
Roll up with new kicks on
Hold on where's your bitch gone
Calls my dick a BMX 'cause that's what she do tricks on
Claims he's got a Merc but still bitch I run past him
Don't know why he's talking to me, dickhead stop asking
Said my bars are funny, but bitch I'm not laughing
Boogie when I bust
Because I strictly come dancing
Big man, you're jarring
Link up then spar him
Gun fingers loaded, just skank out then blast him
Don't count that bar for him
Strap that, then spark it
Hennessy, vodka, drank mat, mans clarted
Hard flows whether the bars are new
Or whether the bars old
Bars cold better than me
Nah you're in the past, bro
Bottlin' a Scottish guy: should've seen that Glasgow
Hit him in the Edin-and-bruv
I nearly made his heart blow
Nearly made his heart burst
Lyricism's artwork
Claim to be a rapper
But you've never spat a hard verse
Writin' 'til my palm hurts
Stay until that arse twerks
Spitting as he's whippin'
Man I made that car swerve
And when I'm on the beat all you see is riot smoke
Watching what you eat but sniffing bugel; diet coke
I suppose it's fire
Every time that I compose
Because I can see the future, present, past when my eyes are closed
Seventeen, I'm very lean
I'll be the best you've ever seen
But you've just gotta give me time
Like when the lemons green
I'm outside the box but
He's a flippin' penalty
Beat your girl tomorrow just to freshen up my memory
Seven shots of Hennessy
Daily till I'm seventy
Mix it with that coca-cola, that's the flippin' recipe
But all I see is jealousy because I'm the guy they'll never be
Going to my gravestone, bunnin' as they bury me
Yeah that good youte with that rude manner
Purple creps, yeah you know I got that new swagger
Give a girl my lightsaber
Till she sounds like Chewbacca
Go in there with Annabelle
Dip in yard with Susanna
Dip in yard with Susy
She was peng but all her friends were dead
I called her Uzi
She's calling me a cutie
I'm playing call of duty with one hand up on the booty
Boy's can multi-task: one-handed as I shoot G
Lyrics for lyrics
Man I would step on any
Telling me I'm old school but trust me I ain't secondary
And if you're chatting shit
Trust me you'll be dead and buried
They're claiming that they're icy
But they're Ben and Jerry
I make words put it in a great verse
Now she's on her knees
But I'm telling her this ain't church
Telling her to leave
Because I promise that this game hurts
I'm in love with brain and she's in love with how my brain works

Yeah, it's Songer
Outside the box
Queue the beat going
I'm going back in
Yeah, listen, yo'

Sick rapper, big stacker
Lip smacker, kick backer
Why you sleeping on the boy?
You a kidnapper
Bitch badder, wink at her
Shit madder, I been badder
The way I'm rolling stones
You think I'm Mick Jagger (Ah)
It's in Gods hands
They call me Maradona
I'm in my zone, don't disturb me when I'm getting gualler
My old girl is so upset I never wifed her
But it's ironic because now she always misses Songer

Bang, BL@CKBOX part two
Big up Bl@ckbox every time
Ya dun-know, big up Reading
Ya dun-know