"Seems 2 Be" lyrics

(Who's that, who's that, who's that?)
The dopest, flyest, OG, pimp hustler, gangster player, hardcore motherfucker living today
To be honest, I'm totally and completely on his dick
And you know this, man!
It's the return of Dizzee Rascal
Dem boy not ready yet, trend they can never set
Inside outside, inside outside
Stop that, start that, get that
Yo, you know, going on Dirtee, going on stank (Yo)

Roll deep on these (Uh)
Put these MCs on deep freeze (Freeze)
Hit these, whip these and rip these
Come like Busta, we flip these
So please don't rap with these (Nah)
Fearless, angry, sick MCs
Don't like Christines or Britneys
Lalas or Tinky Winkys
And this one's strictly for pickneys
Old school afro dry white knees
Barclays, Halifax, we stick these
Endless gunshots, you lick these
Trick these CIDs with ease
Touch mic, MCs jump like fleas
Player haters get chopped like trees
Come a boy rascal, to a boy miseries

It seems to be cars and cash and (Uh) girls and peds
And manners on flame (Uh), better keep your eyes out for them feds
It seems to be phones and bling and raves and weed (Weed)
And pay up what you owe or else them boys will make you bleed
Seems to be DJs and MCs and gold and Nikes
We roll deep for the money; we don't want no technicalities
It seems to be love and war and hate and life
Harsh life, hustle life, thug life, street life

So far from clean (So far)
Play kiss chase with your aunt Maureen
Get rhymes, get heard, get seen
Dizzee run things like Idi Amin
Keep vigilant, keep on guard
We chuck grenades at Scotland Yard
Retard gets kicked hard, real hard
Leave death threats in your birthday card
Oh my days, what is he like
Dizzee.com, Dizzee.bustmic
World wide web.east end
Dizzee.com jacked your girlfriend
Co.uk, outlaw scholar
Barefoot pimp.holla
Frank Fraser lyrical tank
Dizzee.com/going on stank

It seems to be cars and cash and girls and peds
And manners on flame (Uh), better keep your eyes out for them feds (Woo)
It seems to be phones and bling and raves and weed (Weed)
And pay up what you owe or else them boys will make you bleed
Seems to be DJs and MCs and gold and Nikes
We roll deep for the money; we don't want no technicalities
It seems to be love and war and hate and life
Harsh life, hustle life, thug life (Yo), street life (Listen up, yo)

Ding dong, it's on
Fake MCs want to sing my song (Song)
You want to test? Hurry up, bring it on
Wanna take me for a mong? Nah, that's wrong
Hit them with a Jeet-Kun-Do akido blow
Leave bullet holes in your Moschino clothes
Hot like weather, we grow, carry condoms for the hoes
Back, front, inside, out
Dizzee got the flow to make a boy wile out
Six foot deep you can never climb out
I smoke that weed 'til my mum finds out
Front, back, outside, in
Barefoot kids sipping on ginseng
Love making? Nah, doggy-styling
In a dark park on a dark evening

It seems to be cars and cash and girls and peds
And manners on flame (Uh), better keep your eyes out for them feds
It seems to be phones and bling and raves and weed (Weed)
And pay up what you owe or else them boys will make you bleed
Seems to be DJs and MCs and gold and Nikes
We roll deep for the money; we don't want no technicalities
It seems to be love and war and hate and life
Harsh life, hustle life, thug life, street life