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

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

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

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

Ray jus up the mic, would write, lyrics while excluded
No gifts and glamor
Like crime for money, dough, crime pays, ya know?
though Ray come across slow

Broke shit down, another new flow
Made in the back room
Teacher gave him a new time
Then got a little bit o'radio airtime

A.M. till 3, be in school by 9
This was clearly a positive
'bout beats, breaks and bars
Didn't chat champagne and cars

More concerned wiv you know, the
it a touch difficult to shine
Among so called underground stars
resented him thus presentin' him with pure dumbness like retards

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

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