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This starts six years ago in a run down housin' estate
In bow East London, south east UK, was a man
Lets call young man, Ray
wiv bein' around the way would say, "I'm bored"

Until one day gathered up change
And in got turntables off Tony
Not only, were they whack, were wooden
But he took 'em it was a bargain and it was a good'en

And he to himself, "Who wouldn't?"
Why not, then he took a little trot to DJ Targets
Stood outside the door and
what jungle records you got?

Must be you wanna get shot, of, blot
Din't buy beats, he ready to quit, gave him the lot
Then Ray had click, they were hot
Young gun but it all flopped
Still it didn't Ray wanna give up the fight

Ray jus up the mic, would write, lyrics while excluded
No gifts and glamor
crime for money, dough, crime pays, didn't ya know?
Even though Ray across slow

shit down, brung another new flow
Made beats in the room
Teacher him a new spare time
they got a little bit o'radio airtime

1:00 A.M. 3, be in school by 9
This was clearly a positive
'bout beats, breaks and bars
Didn't chat about champagne and

concerned wiv you know, the grime
Made it a difficult to shine
Among these so called underground
Some resented him thus him with pure dumbness like retards

It didn't matter, Ray would say, "Okay, I'm gonna be a real one day"
Went through along the way
But he stood firm, on wiv the wordplay
through dramas along the way

But he stoof firm, on wiv the wordplay
through dramas along the way
Let's take a at Ray today, today, today
Showtime, showtime