Wisdom Fall (Roots Manuva)

And without any shame, for we are the unashamed Lord Gosh presents to you: the audio blanket Man U-V-A, with some holy hurray Deft words display, write rhymes in clay So if nobody don't feel my z-ray I'll cool in my corner, make myself a tre Seek and find a way to get my soul some pay Put some clothes on my back, put some food in my belly Drink some Irish musk and go roll in the hay Wisdom fall, slap my headpiece I'm packing ammunition for who? Papa Time bites at the short-and-curlies Onna lift grin cause she gwan too whirly She buff bad but she vex me nuff Make me lose myself, turn drinking cruff I'm on some fix-up, singing some progress tune Check, checka me check it, me checking myself Rickety raps we write upon scraps of A4 Jack shite to do, beheld my mind tour For to visualise is to be, to be is to gwan with tings As your plane grow wings, we gets fly As I bust a wheelie in the sky We don't follow, follow? Code-red leader Paid off the third term, foot gets stampede Homeward bound, we pulling telescope focus Hanging in the outback on tough concrete Inter-outer galactic transportation Zoot my bone and I reflect at this eighth floor Raw, gyro-cheque poor Roadside distraction to the tune of galore Kerotene gets refueled, detox for system Him a catch a frisking Discotheque off your weakheart hex My level stay next to none of the run-of-the-mill Ex amount pride now