Song mel made me do it stormzy lyrics english

[Intro: Stormzy & Abigail Owuo]


(I’m not going economy, no way)


Jheeze, ay, hahahahaha


Ay, mummy


(I’m claiming it, man)


Claim it, Amen

(I’m claiming it)


Claim it, haha


(I said, “I’m not going econ-, on uhm, economy”)


Yeah, right, why


(Stormzy is my son)


Brap, brap

[Verse]


I’ve been the goat for so long I guess it’s not exciting when I win


Boohoo, someone grab the violins


Every time I try a ting, top bins like Haile when he sings


So of course, they don’t like me, I’m the king


Aight, tell me why oh why would I reply to him?


I leave him hanging like Kyrie on the rim, hm


Where do I begin? I wear the 5990 in the gym


I got a thing for shiny little things

What can I say? I’m like a young black Biden with a trim (Woo)


Presidential when I’m ridin’ in the Bimz


Taking pictures with my cameraman, I’m shining in my skin


For eight-figures I’m Aubameyang, I go and sign the ting


Aight, I never wonder about who I could’ve been, ‘cah I’m here


Rose Gold frosted or ceramic


Told bro spin it so he span it

We are not the same, big Mike‘s from a whole different—


Top bins, what a set piece, fling it in the net


Could’ve Jet Li kick him ’till he bled


And I’m rent-free living in their head


What’s that quote? Ooh, kill them with success


Talking smoke, please, give it all a—


Still dripping in finesse (God damn!)

Man I got figures and flows I’m a different kind of F


Got a Lambo and a Rolls, that’s a different kind of cheque


And I said I was the G.O.A.T, they didn’t listen when I—, ay


Any time I do a big fletch, just ignore me


Niggas wanna hear my side of the story


Niggas wanna hear a nigga chat like it’s Maury


Fuck that, you niggas better bask in my glory


They call me to slide through the store ‘cah I’m so patterned


To be fair we don’t go Hatton

We don’t tell lies


I think the kids call it no cappin’


The boys rough but the flows satin


I J Hus’tle and I’m MoStack‘ing, they wanna’ catch me on the roads lacking


You better pray that it don’t happen (Niggas)


And I don’t sell drugs, still I’m dope rappin’


Have your whole pattern Stiff Chocolate with the book


To be fair, I don’t feel Twitter

Getting told I’m not a real spitter by some broke-arse bill splitter


Listen, nigga, you got bigger fish to fry, like


If I ever see your girlfriend in Dubai, oh Lord


Party on the boat she’s onboard and the Birkin is a bag you can’t afford, and she’d like one


Do the maths you ain’t the right one


It’s alright, son, we’ll send her back before the nights done


I wrote one, light one, eight-out-of-ten


She’s my aight one, think of a hit then I write one

On when I sight one


This my, this my Ghanaian flow, it’s a tight one


If she pretty then I put her on a flight


I put her on a jet if her pussy wait—


Look, my nephews are listening, my chef should be Michelin


There’s guests in my kitchen and my left wrist is glistening


And my tunes getting played from a set to a christening


They’re pissed on the net ’cause I said I ain’t listening


Ugh, real niggas know it’s all positioning

Real niggas know I’m not the victim


Alright, I am I’ll take the L, they hype the ‘gram


They tell their jokes to spite the man


I feed my folks, they bite my hand


I do the most, I’ll fly to Cannes to watch a film, then bye, alright

Headline Reading and Leeds like it’s easy


Funny when they talk about the game ‘cah it needs me


Niggas wanna hear a nigga spill it all to Zeze


Fuck that, you niggas didn’t know that I’m greazy


It’s easy, man talk shit until they see me


Believe me, all you niggas give me (Heebie jeebies)


Word to Lauryn, I will die on this Hill

You little nigga’s two figures shy on my deal


Someone slide me the bill (Okay, I got it)


What my eyes don’t see, the Messiah reveals


If it all goes left, give Jasiah my will


‘Cah I guess I’m just the bredda that they’re dying to kill, ah (Woo)


Your boys mad dark, still I shine like a grill

Yeah, I’m healthy and I’m blessed but I rhyme like I’m ill


Line bagger, holding on the line like Kalil, ooh (Ooh, ooh)


I live a life that they try to fulfil


So they hate on my name but admire my skill


And before I touch stage, gotta’ wire my ‘mil, ah


My niggas do drill that was prior to drill

If you see me with my dragons lookin’ fly in the field


Know Khaleesi couldn’t fathom all the fire I spill, nah


You old washed niggas should retire, for real


There’s a time you should move, and a time to be still


There’s a time to destroy and a time to rebuild


But all I see is washed up Godfathers and washed up podcasters

I own all my masters, I ain’t got masters


I throw a party on the yacht and wear my Yacht Master


They think I just chart top, but I’m the top charter


Gaffer like I’m Scott Parker

From when the mandem use to rock parka’s


I am Nasty, but I’m not Marcus


Genius, I could’ve clocked Harvard


My niggas slide but they are not dancers


Dead rappers wanna swap chargers


Nah, I mean they wanna swap stances


Nah, I mean they wanna trade places

Get to scrappin’ like I ain’t famous


Have you dashing like you’re Dwain Chambers


Follow fashion, man, you fake greatness


To make a classic, yeah, it takes ages


But I still do it like my mate David


Nah, I mean like my bro Dave

Me and MIST, that’s a close shave


They fear this but they won’t say, I’m the nearest on a cold day


They love to talk about the old days


Them man are old like, “Annie, are you okay?”


I prefer not to speak like I’m José

(I prefer really not to, uhm, not to speak, If I speak I am in, in big trouble) (Woo)


This is what I meant when I said what I said


I got whips in my drive, pretty women in my bed


My accolades are bigger than my head


Stylo told me, “Kill ’em ’til they’re dead”


(The killy’dem ah carry one inna di head, Don Dada, kick arff face with bank robber)

If it’s a ting then I’ll just pattern it like Trev, ay


Man I got ‘tec’s like I’m Kylian, punch like I’m Dillian


Walk in a gym and I bump into William


Yeah, the S on chest, yeah, that stands for “Success”


But the M on my hairline stands for my millions


Ah, I got a brilliant car

I got a brilliant team, they wanna’ bring up my past becah I’m living my dream


What we achieved ain’t a shock ‘cah we knew it


We just stepped all clean and said, “Mel made me do it“, ow


Now there’s not enough space in my wardrobe


Benjart fitted on my waist and my torso

Niggas keep on thinking I’m a chief, oh you thought so?


Chatty patty niggas, man, you niggas need a talk show


I’ve never seen real dons turn Loose Women


Sleep real good, fresh sheets, new linen


If we ever played a game called “Guess Who’s Winning?”


Then you’ll open up the door, I’ll be in the room chillin’

There’ll never be a time where me and you’s are twinning


Why? Different status, my chicks the baddest


You know the bags Chanel, the trips to Paris


And if your boys a King, the bits a palace


Okay, three O2’s that I sell-out, man, I’m such a sellout


Might fuck around and bring Adele out


Me and Flipz don’t talk like we fell out


Ah, get the hell out, all the shit I gotta’ spell out

Please A-L-L-O-W me


Every time I double-plaque they go and double my P


I was double-spread Mike, now I cover i-D


I wouldn’t cover for you dickheads if you covered my—


Ah, I knew they wouldn’t like it if I blow


Got all your niggas rattled but you hide it on the low


I’m from the city where they’re ridin’ with the pole

And now my nephews can’t believe that Spider-Man’s my bro


Shout Tom, that’s my guy, on-top ’til we die


Yeah, I skip through the world, hop-scotch to Dubai


There’s a lot to divide but my God will provide


Couldn’t get to where I’m going if you hopped in my—


I got TJ tellin’ me we’re done

I said, “I thought I have an hour left?”


Ah, man, my enemies are out of breath


I pray, then I fast, then I counter press


Spent a week in the sticks, but tonight I’m at my South address


Ah, you know how it gets

Holy Spirit, that’s just how I’m blessed


Aight, twenty bags for my shower head, a nigga gotta’ shower fresh


You little boys are out your depth


Know I got Ashville on the yard and Yianni on the wrap


I mean I’m Yianni on the rap

I’m the best at what I do, they think I’m braggin’ on the track


But I’m flexing ‘cah it’s true, and if you went and run it back


You’d know I’d left you with the truth


Because cars don’t make you this lit


The money don’t make you this good

The plaques don’t make you this cold


Give a fuck what my shit sold


I buss a rhyme when I’m in flip mode, you pricks know


The boy’s just way too nice so you always see my music on the shelf


I’ve been the G.O.A.T for so long that they never hype a nigga up


So I guess I gotta do it to myself, boy