Phantom Lyrics

Metaphor manipulator

Social commentator

Lyrical assassinator

Hit the ting and pass the vapour

And I just refilled the rizla paper

Long drag and I might take you on a journey later

I'm Bob Ross, I'm like a picture perfect picture painter

In Summer '06, I was just a babyfacer

Chiquita chaser

A classical articulator

I kept my nose out of the bullshit on the fucked estate I

Had to get out of it

To get caught up is ignorance

Postcode nonsense

Black bag contents

Black masks, black bats

South east accents

Don't come around here

If you ain't got no friends

Otherwise they could make

The necessary arrangements

Taking your phone

For their own entertainment

"I'll lock you up, blud!"

As the boots cave your face in

Sixth form

Teenage

Prostrate

Pavement

Romero's Dawn of the Benefit Claimants

Or, probably foxes fucking

A couple out clubbing

Walking into a mugging

That D600's too nice for you

Plus you got nice shoes

So ya gonna get done in

Don't ever get ideas above your station

Don't forget: you're here forever

That's what the page read

And on November 23rd '17

I stopped saying that I'd do it for her

Now I'ma do it for me

I got my pension sorted

Zone 2 in South East, fam

I went and bought it

Jaguar, jet black

Tax returns reported

Yeah I might be Windrush

But I na get deported

Never supported but in spite of all the home life shit

I tried to sort it

There's no warning when your whole life hits

Ready salted if you thought that I would lie down here

Life is just unfair

But I'ma get it sorted

'Cause when you're going through hell

Just keep going through it

Sometimes, I feel like Hemingway

But I could never do it

Like there's a date with a needle coming, I'm a shoe-in

Sometimes it's hard to grasp what it is I'm fucking doing

But Shona told me different

I ain't one to talk

When it comes to preconditions

I've seen everything I've worked for come to fruition

Blood survivor

Askari on a fucking mission

Stand and deliver

Hand on the trigger

Gunpowder riddim

I don't pay rent, I ain't got debts

The bailiffs don't come round no more to make threats

You won't see a fat chain adorning my neck

Daytona Rolex

Or AMG spec

I've gone from homeless to

Shelling down sets

With a Roland SPDSX

Mek ya vex like Cornette

Wit genre roulette

The Temple, mic checks

Red mic and black sweats

I come fi play the game like Backgammon

DBP

Double six

False challenge

South of the River Thames

Born into damage

Mum played Beres,

And she played daddy

Til I came home, where nobody lives

No responsibilities, no wife, no kids

No family favourites

No tins at Christmas

It takes the biscuit

"Still watching?" Netflix

I wake up at 6

Work days I'm sick

On the tube flush with commuter armpits

I smoke to the roach

I hope I don't choke

I spend my nights stoned

And my days in remiss

Money can't buy you out of loneliness

Why flash the cash

Keep up appearances?

I don't pop magnums

I am the phantom

I'm in the background

With half a million quid

Stand and deliver

Hand on the trigger

Gunpowder riddim