Stormzy – Return of the Rucksack Lyrics

Stormzy Return of the Rucksack Lyrics

I don’t wanna be on Lord of the Mics with shit MC’s
Nah, bro, I’m above that
Using my name for a dead bit of fame, tryna get up in the game
Yeah right, n****, fuck that
Stormz’ ain’t grime and Stormz’ ain’t clash, look, don’t be fooled
Cah the war ting, I love that
Call this the return of the rucksack
Oi, Flipz, get the four-door truck back (Sounds of the Sir)

Come to your block in my PJ’s (Yeah)
Big dot dot for the briefcase (Yeah)
Bro bought me a watch for my B-day (Huh?)
And my girlfriend’s a boss like I’m Piqué
Yeah, I lick shots for my DJ
And I’m still getting guap in my CK’s
Big whip I’m underground parking (Skrrt)
That’s word to the fob on my key-chain, n****
Can’t flex on me, can’t flex on me
Rudeboy, fling all the cheques on me
See Big Mike on the ID site
Now the peng tings wanna do the sex on me
I’ve got scars for days, I’m so tribal
You’re not Ghana made, you’re not Michael
I can spar and spray with my idols
Look, if I slap your face, it’ll go viral
I was on my Saracen bike on my Ridgeback (Word)
Cold on the roads but I did that (Word)
IPhone 3 with the GiffGaff (Word)
Take a break little n****, have a KitKat (Cool)
Came for the war like I’m Mixpak
I’ve got peng tings shaking their Tic-Tacs
And I know that I shouldn’t be sending
But broke n***** shouldn’t make diss tracks (No)
You broke n***** should’ve been quiet
I’m cold, little n****, don’t try it
Yeah, I think I’m the best, I’m biased
And I shoot for your chest like Payet

But I roll deep on these
Show these likkle MC’s ’bout greaze
Show these likkle MC’s ’bout me
I was on my steeze from 2003

Like, I roll deep on these, put these MC’s on deep freeze
Yeah, I roll deep on these, put these MC’s on deep freeze
Yeah, I roll deep on these, put these MC’s on deep freeze
Yeah, I roll deep on these, put these MC’s on deep freeze
Yeah

Man are getting killed by other MC’s
Then coming ’round here tryna start
Rudeboy, we ain’t forgotten your past
Laughing stock for the year, what a laugh
Sending for MCs can’t be your path
Rudeboy, come off my name, just graft
Man wanna know what they paid for the part
Know that I’m comfy, shout out Noel Clarke
Bro, you’re too thirsty, I don’t blame you
I get merky, I get paid too
You’re not certy, I can’t hate you
Just a wasteman looking for a breakthrough
I know Kofi, I know Kweiku
You can’t smoke me, I don’t rate you
Man, I told these n***** that it’s album time
And I’ll probably go gold on my debut
I was on a BMX bike with the trick nuts (Word)
Out here tryna get my chips up (Word)
Norfolk Park with my lightie (Mm?)
I was fifteen, tryna get my dick sucked (Ugh)
Young n**** tryna get my dick wet (Word)
Had a cold pink jacket like Dipset
Last night I just rang my accountant
Like, “Talk to me, brother, am I rich yet?”
Like, “Talk to me, brother, can I buy this?”
Big yard for my nephew Elias
Can’t get this style from a stylist (No)
Then I blow on the riddim like ISIS

But I roll deep on these
Show these likkle MC’s ’bout greaze
Show these likkle MC’s ’bout me
I was on my steeze from 2003

Like, I roll deep on these, put these MC’s on deep freeze
Yeah, I roll deep on these, put these MC’s on deep freeze
Yeah, I roll deep on these, put these MC’s on deep freeze
Yeah, I roll deep on these, put these MC’s on deep freeze
Yeah

I don’t wanna be on Lord of the Mics with shit MC’s
Nah, bro, I’m above that
Using my name for a dead bit of fame, tryna get up in the game
Yeah right, n****, fuck that
Stormz’ ain’t grime and Stormz’ ain’t clash, look, don’t be fooled
Cah the war ting, I love that
Call this the return of the rucksack
Oi, Flipz, get the four-door truck back

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