Get Your Head Round This
Paul White
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It's the supersize, lifelike-looking
Computerised mic-fighting hoodlum
Fuck 'em
I'm night riding on his bike, sight shorter than my eyesight
Buzz Lightyear acting like Woody
I'm the nighttime type, some turn a blind eye
Like they ain't seeing these MCs getting bullied
They couldn't write rhymes even if the limelight
Was some form of slack, just giving up the
But grime-wise, them man have a nice life
Acting like they're badder than Trim and all the showbiz
And I'm a nice guy but there's a fine line between
Man like Trim and the guy underneath the hoodie
So I'm like likewise, I ain't gonna lie, like
I ain't ever liked these guys but they're real pussies
And fuck a timeline, I'll rip the highlights out his
Girl's hair while she's setting up Wi-Fi in her undies
Yo, yo, get your head 'round this
Get your head 'round this
Yo, yo, get your head 'round this
Get your head 'round this
Yo, get your head 'round this
Get your head 'round this
Yo, get your head 'round this
It's Trim, get your head 'round this
Yo, yo
It's the underground, underrated, uncreative, misguided goon
'80S baby, I patiently waited, spitting animations
'Cause Sandra Jean couldn't put a brush
Through if the lyrics were screaming "paint me"
I've noticed my haters don't even hate me
They just wanna spit with me, so they can look as crazy
They can't take me
Annoying little fuck that keeps turning up shouting out "Gof wine,!"
Gang-related, evacuating whatever building your crew ejaculating dicks
In love with themselves, masturbating
Agitated 'cause I roll with an imagination
Reality's full of shit and still hasn't come up with my payments
Sick, Feng Shui flow
Please check the arrangements
This ain't it ain't J. Cole, fam we're pavement
Road, belly full of wounds, life full of entertainment
Yo, yo, get your head 'round this
Get your head 'round this
Yo, yo, get your head 'round this
Get your head 'round this
Yo, get your head 'round this
Get your head 'round this
Yo, get your head 'round this
It's Trim, get your head 'round this
Yo, yo
It's the recreational, occasional, weed-smoking April Fool
God don't wanna talk and I used to bully Damian at school
So it's off to walk the path and the Chinese wall
I don't write lyrics, I leave the brain to stall
Give me a hot minute, I'll set fire to every second you call
See I'm grime's secret weapon
All degrees is my fault
Listening to off-beat lyrics and making the time halt
Rasta with no locks, got sows whining in my pool
Fowl lions running around like headless chicken
And rise on the end of my pitchfork
Living, got no lean to my wall
Living, making a scene whilst facing the North
Smoking anything green, leaving the professor to write the hall
Committing homicidal killings for the school
Yo, yo, get your head 'round this
It's Trim, get your head 'round this
Yo, yo, get your head 'round this
It's Trim, get your head 'round this
Yo, get your head 'round this
It's Trim, get your head 'round this
Yo, get your head 'round this
It's Trim, get your head 'round this
Get your head 'round this