Light Work Lyrics - Singles - Chip

OK, so man writ a whole diss track for me 

Now I've got a whole diss track for you 

"Pepper Riddim", six at once 

But this one's just for you 

"Pepper Riddim" helped changed the game 

My career, your claim to fame 

DJ gassing you just to spite me, donut 

You ain't hot for my name 

Big up 0161, yeah 

But when you say 0161, air 

Cause you was a London label sellout this year 

So not levelling here 

Me rate you? Nah, heck no 

Built a name off mine from the get-go 

And ya dun know I love Manchester 

But I don't rate you, blud, I rate Geko, hold up 

Diss me for making pop songs 

But you got gassed and worked with a pop star, hypocrite 

RIP who? Can't get rid of this 

I will pepper your clart till you're sick of this 

I rang you cuh my man said you was cool 

But you sang my man too 

You twist the story and put it out for the views 

Wow, pagan yout 

Pagans doing what pagans do 

Two thirds of "Peak" was a pagan tune 

Dem boy paigons, I can't stand them 

Stand on my own, tell a pagan move 

Rap beats, yeah man, I'm on it too 

Peng tings know man are hot for you 

About Sonic the Hedgehog, you drop lip monkey 

This here's Sonic Boom 

Blud, you're desperate, me, I'm strategic with it 

Man might ease in with it 

Drop "My Bruddaz", go quiet 

Grab the pen, pap pap, squeeze him with it 

You wanna come to the ends with 

All your friends but when no one's about 

Come with all your jewels when everyone's there 

See what Tottenham's about 

Acting hard, repeating bars 

Living off my past, why do you rate him? 

Plus, he never came no one's block 

Tourist, he was outside the stadium 

Relegation what? Relegation who? 

You're relegating who? 

Telling kids "turn into the devil" 

And the industry wanna champion you 

Man love chat 'bout the "Champion" tune 

But you could never make champion move 

Cool, fuck having As and Bs 

Safe, fuck you and your box of food 

Cuh you're not real, you're not Rage 

Why you acting like you can't hear Rage? 

Reply to him, he's on what you're on 

He'll do it on the roads or do it on a song 

I'm from the school so I'mma have to school him 

No relegation, it's a ridiculing 

Fuck Radio times, I was the problem 

Now I'm 24 and I'm still a nuisance 

Run out of what? I've got fucking bars 

They're fronting on me but I'm fucking hard 

I'm a lovely guy and I'll fucking lie 

And I'll fuck your bird, I am not your darg 

Pree me until you can't pree anymore 

Are you a gyal? What you preeing me for? 

Drop lip monkey, you can't hush me 

I'll watch my mouth when you watch yours 

About "Watch Your Mouth", shh hut ya mout 

Basic hook, dead tune 

If this was ever Fuck Radio times with "whoopie" 

You'd be the worst in the room 

To ghost me as a writer, fam 

Blud, you'll need a ghostwriter, fam 

Messed up, I'm in a catch 22 

Cuh I put niggas on when I write for man 

You can't finish me without mentioning grime or pop 

Or mentioning where you're from 

I'm a fly boy so you wanna hurt me 

Cuh you know bar for bar it's long 

Fuck that shit, pen ammo 

Got my dead friends' energy channeled 

Whoring out for like every platform 

Do something on your own channel 

Coming at me, blud 

Gassed off a MOBO tweet, blud 

Anything you ever win in your life 

Thank the devil, then me, blud 

We all know who made who, blud 

Saviour? That's not you, blud 

Fire in the Booth, said I born MCs 

And the big baby is you, blud 

Chipmunk rush to reply for who? 

If not for him then not for you 

Like me, he can make a big tune 

But he ran out of bars and pimped you fuckerys 

I know you man just might run out of bars 

Chip can't run out of bars 

Right now, yeah, I'm repeating the bar 

Cause I wanna wheel with the bar when I pull up in the dance, ayy 

Try and know that's light work 

That you're light work 

Cash Motto 

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