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

Until one day gathered up some
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
outside the door and knocked
Asked what jungle records you

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

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

Broke down, brung another new flow
beats in the back room
Teacher gave him a new spare
Then they got a little bit o'radio

A.M. till 3, be in school by 9
This was clearly a sign
Learnin' beats, breaks and bars
chat about champagne and cars

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

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

But he stoof firm, pressed on wiv the
Went dramas along the way
Let's take a look at Ray today, today,
Showtime, it's