Big Shak
by Ash
Lyrics
[Intro - sparse 808 bass rumble, hype DJ scratch, cocky mic tap, London accent ad-libs "Oi oi, man's on fire innit?"]
Yo, [Intro - sparse 808 bass rumble, hype DJ scratch, cocky mic tap, London accent ad-libs "Oi oi, man's on fire innit?"]
Yo, Big Shak in the booth, yeah man's spittin' bars,
Fire in the booth part two, got the whole ends scarred.
I'm sayin' nothin' to these wastemen, they chat too much,
Man's eatin' good, chicken and chips, no such thing as lunch.
[Verse 1 - trap hi-hats skitterin', lazy flow, off-beat delivery, cheeky laughs and shrugs in vocals]
Went to the shop, said "Gimme a brewski," man looked confused,
I said "Bruv, it's tea innit? With milk and two sugars, don't be rude."
Hennessy? Nah, man's allergic, starts dancin' like a fool,
Pull up on opps, say "Sorry lads, forgot me tool."
I'm saucin' in me sliders, lookin' fresh like a don,
But tripped on me lace, now man's eatin' pavement, what a con!
Chat to the mandem, "Who's got bars?" They point at me,
I spit one line, crowd goes "Wagwan?" Man's feelin' free.
[Chorus/Hook - booming sub-bass, warped vocal chops, repetitive ad-libs "Man don't dance! Haha!" energetic but sloppy]
Man don't dance, no, man's saucin', saucin' in the booth,
Fire in the booth, yeah man's tellin' the truth!
Henny on the rocks? Nah, man's got Ribena juice,
Spit flames so hot, melt your Reeboks, no excuse!
(Sauce it up! Man don't dance!)
[Verse 2 - faster grime beat switch-up, stumbling rhythm, exaggerated pauses, crowd hype samples "Aye!" "Oi!"]
Next ting, man's in the gym, liftin' weights like a beast,
Dropped the dumbbell on me foot, now man's eatin' a feast.
Of painkillers, bruv, paracetamol and crisps,
Opps see me comin', they dip like they slipped on chips.
Got a ting, she's peng, said "Wagwan love?" She laughed in me face,
"Said your bars are peng? Nah, they're a disgrace!"
I said "Chicken shop date? Two pieces hot, yeah?"
She ghosted quicker than me flow when I forget the next bar.
[Build-up - tense synth risers, echoing ad-libs "It's gettin' hot! Fire!" shaky vocal flex]
Man's levellin' up, no cap, straight facts... uh... wait, what's next?
[Verse 3/Outro - heavy 140bpm grime rattle, increasingly chaotic flow, diss track energy fading into laughs, beat breakdown with airhorn stabs]
Pull up to the rave, man's too sauced to move,
DJ plays me track, crowd says "Who dis fool?"
I'm spittin' 'bout me ends, but forgot the postcode,
SE somethin'? Nah, man's lost like a ghost.
Henny? Nah, man's on Vimto, feelin' wavy,
One sip of booze, man's swayin' like a baby.
Fire in the booth? More like fire in me belly,
From that dodgy kebab, now man's runnin' to the deli!
(Man don't dance! Haha, sauce! Peace out innit!) in the booth, yeah man's spittin' bars,
Fire in the booth part two, got the whole ends scarred.
I'm sayin' nothin' to these wastemen, they chat too much,
Man's eatin' good, chicken and chips, no such thing as lunch.
[Verse 1 - trap hi-hats skitterin', lazy flow, off-beat delivery, cheeky laughs and shrugs in vocals]
Went to the shop, said "Gimme a brewski," man looked confused,
I said "Bruv, it's tea innit? With milk and two sugars, don't be rude."
Hennessy? Nah, man's allergic, starts dancin' like a fool,
Pull up on opps, say "Sorry lads, forgot me tool."
I'm saucin' in me sliders, lookin' fresh like a don,
But tripped on me lace, now man's eatin' pavement, what a con!
Chat to the mandem, "Who's got bars?" They point at me,
I spit one line, crowd goes "Wagwan?" Man's feelin' free.
[Chorus/Hook - booming sub-bass, warped vocal chops, repetitive ad-libs "Man don't dance! Haha!" energetic but sloppy]
Man don't dance, no, man's saucin', saucin' in the booth,
Fire in the booth, yeah man's tellin' the truth!
Henny on the rocks? Nah, man's got Ribena juice,
Spit flames so hot, melt your Reeboks, no excuse!
(Sauce it up! Man don't dance!)
[Verse 2 - faster grime beat switch-up, stumbling rhythm, exaggerated pauses, crowd hype samples "Aye!" "Oi!"]
Next ting, man's in the gym, liftin' weights like a beast,
Dropped the dumbbell on me foot, now man's eatin' a feast.
Of painkillers, bruv, paracetamol and crisps,
Opps see me comin', they dip like they slipped on chips.
Got a ting, she's peng, said "Wagwan love?" She laughed in me face,
"Said your bars are peng? Nah, they're a disgrace!"
I said "Chicken shop date? Two pieces hot, yeah?"
She ghosted quicker than me flow when I forget the next bar.
[Build-up - tense synth risers, echoing ad-libs "It's gettin' hot! Fire!" shaky vocal flex]
Man's levellin' up, no cap, straight facts... uh... wait, what's next?
[Verse 3/Outro - heavy 140bpm grime rattle, increasingly chaotic flow, diss track energy fading into laughs, beat breakdown with airhorn stabs]
Pull up to the rave, man's too sauced to move,
DJ plays me track, crowd says "Who dis fool?"
I'm spittin' 'bout me ends, but forgot the postcode