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

Until one day gathered up change
And in got turntables off Tony
Not only, were they whack, were wooden
But he took 'em 'cos it was a and it was a good'en

And he to himself, "Who wouldn't?"
Why not, he took a little trot to DJ Targets squat
Stood outside the door and
Asked what jungle you got?

be somethin' you wanna get shot, of, blot
Din't buy beats, he ready to quit, him the whole lot
Then Ray had click, they were hot
Young gun soldiers but it all
it didn't make Ray wanna give up the fight

Ray jus picked up the mic, would write, lyrics excluded
No gifts and included
Like crime for money, dough, crime pays, didn't ya
Even though Ray across slow

Broke down, brung another new flow
Made beats in the back
Teacher him a new spare time
Then they got a bit o'radio airtime

1:00 A.M. till 3, be in by 9
was clearly a positive sign
Learnin' beats, breaks and bars
chat about champagne and cars

More wiv you know, the grime
Made it a touch to shine
these so called underground stars
Some resented him thus presentin' him with pure dumbness like

It didn't matter, Ray would say, "Okay, I'm gonna be a real one day"
through dramas along the way
But he stood firm, pressed on wiv the
Went dramas along the way

But he stoof firm, on wiv the wordplay
through dramas along the way
Let's a look at Ray today, today, today
Showtime, it's