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

Until one day up some change
And in exchange got turntables off
Not only, were 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, then he took a trot to DJ Targets squat
Stood outside the door and
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
gun soldiers but it all flopped
Still it didn't Ray wanna give up the fight

Ray jus up the mic, would write, lyrics while excluded
No and glamor included
Like crime for money, dough, crime pays, ya know?
Even though Ray across slow

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

1:00 A.M. 3, be in school by 9
This was a positive sign
Learnin' 'bout beats, and bars
Didn't chat champagne and cars

concerned wiv you know, the grime
Made it a touch difficult to
Among so called underground stars
Some resented him presentin' him with pure dumbness like retards

It matter, Ray would say, "Okay, I'm gonna be a real star one day"
Went through dramas the way
But he firm, pressed on wiv the wordplay
Went dramas along the way

But he firm, pressed on wiv the wordplay
Went through along the way
Let's take a look at Ray today, today,
Showtime, showtime