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

one day gathered up some change
And in exchange got turntables off
Not only, they whack, they 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, he took a little trot to DJ Targets squat
Stood outside the and knocked
what jungle records you got?

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

Ray jus picked up the mic, would write, lyrics excluded
No gifts and glamor
Like crime for money, dough, crime pays, didn't ya
Even though Ray come across

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

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

More concerned wiv you know, the
it a touch difficult to shine
Among so called underground stars
resented him thus presentin' him with pure dumbness like retards

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

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