Stormzy – Wiley Flow Lyrics

Stormzy – Wiley Flow Lyrics
Wiley Flow
Stormzy
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    Wiley Flow Album Art
    "Wiley Flow." - Stormzy

    Album: Heavy Is The Head
    Track No: 12
    Bruv, I didn't look at it this way before
    But as I approach my birthday
    All you man are my youngers
    You man are my youngers, bruv
    If you can't do 10K first week
    Then I don't wanna hear no chat about numbers
    You man are my youngers
    All blacked-out like grungers
    Tens and twenties and hundreds
    Tens and twenties and thousands
    I can't never just lowe dem (No)
    On Mount Everest shoutin'
    Soon go back to the mountains
    Third album, ****, I bless the beat with smoke
    And my day-one bros, they kept me close
    Then I sip my Tetley, take a toke
    They're tryna get me on the ropes
    Aye, bro got the speshy in his coat
    So please, man, let's just be adults
    And don't be flexin' in my boat
    ****, you can't test me, I'm the GOAT
    Rolex collections lookin' dope
    I got the Pepsi and the Hulk
    And I ain't flexin' on you ****
    Cah I'll still be sexy if I'm broke
    Wait there and I was made to win like I'm designed to blow
    We're doin' major things, but it's a minor though
    I used to pay for things, but that was time ago
    And now I hit you **** with the Wiley flow, it's like
    Bad 'em up, bad 'em up, bad 'em up once
    Never could you take me for a dunce
    Been on the scene for a hundred months
    All I met is bare cunts
    Take man for lunch
    Eediot youts get punched
    Pick one boy from your bunch
    Tell man, "Jump"
    Oh what, you didn't wanna jump? Well
    Oh well, look, now you're slumped
    Little ****, I swerve (Little ****, I swerve)
    Get out my lane (Get out my lane)
    North and East and West are hot, but the South's on flames
    This year, I'ma be a household name
    I grew up in a house of pain
    I don't do it for the clout or fame
    All the real **** gonna vouch on my name
    All the real **** gonna vouch on my– (Vouch on my–)
    Yeah (Yeah, yeah)
    Yeah (Yeah, yeah)
    If you ain't got more than five top tens
    Then I don't wanna hear no chat about chartin'
    You man are just startin'
    Come in like a young Chris Martin
    Start swingin' with my arms like Carlton
    Start swingin' with my arms like Anthony
    All my **** been charged, don't amp me
    Have your missus in her bra and panty
    If you see me in the dance, I'm anti, quite frankly
    Heavyweight champion of the world
    They wanna war me for my belt
    If you ever hear Stormzy caught an L
    Know I stood tall before I fell
    There's a couple birthdays comin' up
    So I took like a quarter from the shelf
    Spent like a hundred on my mum
    Then about one-forty on myself
    The Mille, I sport it like Pharrell
    But I got the Nautilus as well
    All of the stories that I've lived, my ****
    These are the stories that I tell
    Wait there and I was made to win like I'm designed to blow
    We're doin' major things, but it's a minor though
    I used to pay for things, but that was time ago
    And now I hit you **** with the Wiley flow, it's like
    Run up on them man laughing, fuck it
    You got a chain but you tuck it, fuck it
    Man throw dirt on my name, blud, fuck it
    Slew anybody in the family, fuck it
    Run up on them man laughing, fuck it
    You got a chain but you tuck it, fuck it
    Man throw dirt on my name, blud, fuck it
    Slew anybody in the family, iyt, iyt
    Last three tunes kinda prove that I did this
    Mind what you say, I put a yout on my shit list
    Must be the same old yout in the dinner hall
    Primary, sippin' on my juice with my biscuits
    I'm from a place where we move to da witness
    Stare in your face, tell 'em, "Business is business"
    Came for the fame, but she stayed for the litness
    Ask your new girl, she loves Mr. Skeng
    You'll never ever see me with guys known for verbals
    My bruddas pull up and sky, no rehearsals
    Don't switch sides, there's no role reversals
    How's the best spitter in grime so commercial?
    Wait, nobody said you're good, dun your chat
    Your girl take the wood, lumberjack
    Hit 'em with a lighter flex, humble brag
    I can't drop the bag, I'm the bag
    Yeah
    Yeah
    If you ain't got no platinum plaques
    Then I don't wanna hear no chat about
    Nah, I'm jokin', man

    Writer(s): Eyobed Getachew, Fateh Mohammed Aminur Rahman, Michael Omari & Richard Kylea Cowie Jr.

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