On Heat ft. Toddla T, DJ Q & Unique 3 Lyrics

If ya don’t who I am I’m’a tell ya, S Dog from Yorkshire, well known charva. Rip through estate with the boys on drama, robbed every plug in the ends, so I’m in for the karma. I couldn’t give fuck who’s harder, man wanna chat their shit, but ya land n they scarpa. S Dog, the Yorkshire’s major, out for my daughter ’n paper. My corey’s out for a hater. Me n Toddla T on a track, it’s dangerous. Rep for the up north rangers. Boom

Colour code from my head to my toes, look neat

Get a glimpse of a grow, like a dog on heat

Got my TNs tied on my feet, I’m out for the meat

Link ya gyal, get back to the yard ’n we beat

Tanned legs, white toes ’n I’m down for the meat

Man lean ’n bop the stage, get paid for a dance in the rave. There (check!- was they) were days when I can’t afford a shave, but I’m up ’n I’m living some ways, it’s a madness. I remember them days, me ’n Kutz in choreys. Shottys on trains no stories. My life is a madness, it’s far from boring. Every MC with (ask Sham!- was worth) the same old story, I feel like snoring. My girl, what you smoking? On come vibe, think we’ll get along, but if the blue lights flash then ya better hold on, coz the traction’s off and we’re gone. Drive like a stole it, high-speed bends, I can hold it. 335 on balloons, yeh I rolled it, sirens sound ’n I’m smoking. Boom

Colour code from my head to my toes, look neat

Get a glimpse of a grow, like a dog on heat

Got my TNs tied on my feet, I’m out for the meat

Link ya gyal, get back to the yard ’n we beat

Tanned legs, white toes, ’n I’m down for the meat

Man wanna chat about me, man need to raise their P, they ain’t levels like S Dog. I was born in BFD, then I moved to a town called Cas, where nittys get gassed. Man (was - mana? Check with Sham?) who do well get grassed. Night vibers get glassed. I'm Yorkshire’s rep, front of the line, not last. A VIP pass in the clubs, walk straight past, living my life real fast. But man are not Ricky, few situations got real sticky, selection of gyal I’m picky, sharp like a flicky, cash for the work; no ticky, face of the city, I don’t need nobody’s pity, when I stand on stage you know shit’s litty!!