[Hook] Yo, where ya from? I'm from a place where the streets are filled with snakes Smile on their face as they plot to do you wrong Where ya from? I'm from a town where the man will take you down 'Til you make them pounds, flashing it around like you the don Cause where I'm from They don't give a fuck if you got talent, only got love for your bank balance Like give me the one That's where I'm from Don't ever get it twisted, yeah I'm really really from the ends Now what the fuck you want? [Verse 1] I'm walking down the street, past the coppers on the beat Past the shotters blottin' weed, clear for everyone to see But no-one gives a D, Cause this is everyday life Fuck the police, it's a ghetto state of mind Except where I'm livin' I can't see no ghetto This ain't America, it's England, where we live ain't nothing special You can take anywhere and call it a ghetto Same way you make cyanide, same way you make amaretto Hip-hop's on the street, now we all busting echo 50 Cent's on MTV now it's cool to carry metal objects Now the object is to kill How can you value life when you're so close to death Stainless steel, how's it make you feel? Blood, holding that bucky Knowledge is power, guns just make you feel lucky It's fuckery, the way these youth man like to go on Bustin' shots in the crowd when there's a show on They're just putting a show on Some gangsters stay underground like Non-Fiction They don't fire blanks at yanks like when Nas played at Brixton Thrill seeking dickheads just doing it for kicks Hear the next man speak his name from his lips Give a guy props for licking shots from a gun Like if they fired one at him the fucking prick wouldn't run It's like they praising these youths for acting so dumb And it's no excuse, most of us are father-less sons [Hook x1] [Verse 2] Yo, where ya from? Are you really from the ends? Well that depends on what the fuck you mean by ends? If you south of the Thames then nah I ain't from them ends I'm from these ends, they call it the east-end my friend And around here you gotta watch your back cause everyone's bent Bare man who think they rough just cause they're shot in the pen Hating on Plan B cause they don't know me as Ben Youths as young as ten walking around thinking they're men They're under the influence, and I ain't even talking about drugs I'm talking about why the fuck they walking like thugs? They're in love with the idea of being a gangster Romantic idol-isms, producing hot jizzum like a wanker What ever happened to good 'ol fashioned street fighting like blanca Queensbury Rules mate, that's how I vent my anger Vent my anger, knock out your teeth If you bring me beef Leave you looking like a chief [Hook x1]
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