sounds from the SE Lyrics

Sounds from the SE

I'm your host Mr JC

You feel my presence open my presents

With the local felons kickback puffing on lemons

Poker face with the kindest of gestures

Behind closed doors scheming like lester

Raid your yard like a heist my girl naughty not nice

My hearts made of ice my loves got no price

Intelligent don't interfere with my intelligence

Outspoken intellect I don't sit on the picket fence

Weed smoke no cigarettes my words are my evidence

I'm the weatherman mastering the elements

Sounds from the south east words from a diary

Bad one give me Headie like Irving no Kyrie

Everything crisp JC got the rhythm and stylie

You man are talkers entirely off your nut like Wiley

One date is all I need now she can't get me out her head like Kylie

I'm a boss with the old school and one with the new school

Diluted my pupils when life gave me stress

My trees they stay rooted puffing out stress

My dreams were lucid should've been sucking on breast

London's a jungle and I'm beating my chest

Thought I was joker when I stepped through like Arthur

Delivering the Har hars putting smiles on faces

Leave them red faced like strawberry laces

One of a kind one of one not one of many

Say JC three times and I'll appear like Bloody Mary

My mind dangerous my intentions scary

My pen stay inked for any man that's larry

Man are Jim Carey wear a mask and move dumber

I just want the coins like that Italian plumber

And a stunner that's hotter than last summer

Don't do auto tune like gunna my voice stays raw

Scramble your egghead leave you like coleslaw

Rock jaws like Tyson cut deep like a hacksaw

With the pussy it's a manslaught-ter

With a mans daughter floodgates open

Smoking on this cupcake mixing henny with soda

This nutcase will leave bloodstains and wounds reopened

Wordsmith so potent speaking sounds from the se

Still a goodfella like De Niro and Pesci

Sounds from the SE

Words from my diary

No hooks raw bars hot flow on a beat icy

Criticise me but can't die me

Can't dead me won't end me

Still do a thousand miles and my tank won't be empty

Still write a thousand rhymes and my tank won't be empty

Sounds from the SE

It's JC