CANCIÓNEveryone's DeadRizzle Kicks 

Everyone's posing, everyone's nosing
Everyone's got someone by the scrotum
Everyone's choosing, nobody's chosen
Everyone's dead

Yeah, don't come at me with that dead-ass vibe
You little sheep, I count you in my bed at night
You want beef? Well the stakes are high
Call me Sega, I got mega drive

Used to be a deadbeat
Now I kill a mic till the beat's dead, yes please
If you wanna vibe, all my peeps say yeah
Under your skin like an ingrown hair

See I'm straight to the point, all about honesty
You wanna be? Be gone, you little wannabe
Yeah I'm really not bothered if we're nominees
See I'm more concerned about mon amis

That's my friends, yeah in French
Did it in school, did you think I was dense?
Used to be pensive 'til it made pence
Used all my senses 'til it made sense

See real chairman, never sit on a bench
I'm way too offensive to sit on the fence
You're too narrow-minded to live on the edge
So I'm sorry to remind you we can't be friends

Everyone's posing, everyone's nosing
Everyone's got someone by the scrotum
Everyone's choosing, nobody's chosen
Everyone's dead (x5)

I've been around the world and I've seen a lot of things
But I never thought that I'd see this
I've seen braindead adults that act like children cause they're not getting their fix
Of unreality, reality, they haven't got a danny about what the fuck is happening
So engrossed in a world full of mannequins
Fake-ass people and fake-ass challenges

Dazed and confused, lazy and bemused
Think for yourself once you may be amused
And don't get lost by the raving reviews
And just follow suit like you're chasing the shoes

Cause sooner or later they all get found out
For not knowing more than the pound
They're so trapped by the bright lights and shoutouts
Bruv you never know when they're going down
You're going down
(Call the paramedic!)

Everyone's posing, everyone's nosing
Everyone's got someone by the scrotum
Everyone's choosing, nobody's chosen
Everyone's dead (x5)

Yo it's J to the Steezy (Mr Sylvester)
Roll up to your yard in a Ford Fiesta
Swag level on a million (zillion)
Raybans dark enough to have the Daily Mail call them immigrants (killing it)

I like a lot of people but I trust few
Text people I hate saying 'love you' (mwah)
Then kill 'em in the whatsapp group like
Everyone's dead
Mad ting, what you up to?

Come through, telling you to butt my shit
Cause I'm ill enough to make you need to duck my sick
Left the room for a bit but now we've come back in
And everybody's doing one damn thing
And it's boring:
MOURNING

Yeah we've been top of the pops
So we're happy when we pop to the shops
We'll keep running our gobs
Until the Queen takes LSD, pigs fly
Or Tinie Tempah wears socks, gone

Braindead adults
Dead
Yeah
Bruv you never know when they're going down