[Verse 1: East London grime male MC, rapid and cold on the skippy beat] Sunday morning on the marshes, frost on the posts Every other keeper in the league plays like a ghost I'm six foot four with the gloves taped tight Been in goal since Year Seven and I never had a fight Not a scrap, not a caution, not a night in a van Mum said keep your hands clean, so I kept both hands Penalty, free kick, one on one, I don't blink Striker takes a look at me and has a little think [Pre-Hook: East London grime male MC] Shoot then, shoot then, put it where you like Shoot then, shoot then, I been waiting all my life [Hook: East London grime male MC, every bar landing on the snare] Ask the ref, ask the feds, I keep a clean sheet Nothing in my net and there's nothing on the street Whole estate put a tenner on me getting put away Ask the ref, ask the feds, I keep it out all day [Verse 2: East London grime male MC, faster, pointing at the touchline] Seventeen games and the net's bone dry Their number nine's been crying since the end of July They put a big man in front of me to block my view I can see right through him and I see right through you Police stop me walking home and empty out my bag Two gloves, shin pads and a towel, that's the swag Officer looks at me funny, says you play then, mate I said keeper, I keep trouble on the other side the gate [Hook: East London grime male MC, every bar landing on the snare] Ask the ref, ask the feds, I keep a clean sheet Nothing in my net and there's nothing on the street Whole estate put a tenner on me getting put away Ask the ref, ask the feds, I keep it out all day [Bridge: East London grime male MC, Beat Switch, double-time dive, the flow doubles with the drums] Cup final, ninety-fourth minute, penalty given Half the borough holding breath and the other half praying I make myself a wardrobe, make myself a wall Read his hips, read his eyes, read the lace on the ball Left foot, low, going bottom right corner I'm already there like I booked it in the morning [Verse 3: East London grime male MC, back on the skippy beat, grinning] Monday at the training ground, the scout says sit down Lovely hands, son, but we check a record in this town Man had a folder full of nothing and he flicked it twice Said most lads from your block got a sheet and it ain't nice I said my sheet is clean, read it front and read it back Twenty-two years and there ain't one line in that Kept my hands clean and they paid me for my hands Kept the ball out, kept me out, now the borough's in the stands [Hook: East London grime male MC, every bar landing on the snare] Ask the ref, ask the feds, I keep a clean sheet Nothing in my net and there's nothing on the street Whole estate put a tenner on me getting put away Ask the ref, ask the feds, I keep it out all day [Outro: East London grime male MC] Two clean sheets, and both of them framed [End]
0/500