Mel Made Me Do It Songtext
von Stormzy

(I′m not going on economy, no way)
Jheeze, ay, haha-haha-ha
Ay, mummy
(I'm claiming it, man)
Claim it, amen
(I′m claiming it)
Claim it, haha
(I said, "I'm not going econ-, on uhm, economy")
Yeah, right, why?
(Stormzy is my son)
Brap

I've been the G.O.A.T. for so long I guess it′s not excitin′ when I win
Boohoo, someone grab the violins
Every time I try a ting, top bins like Haile when he sings
So, of course, they don't like me, I′m the king
A'ight, tell me why, why would I reply to him?
I leave him hanging like Kyrie on the rim
Where do I begin? I wear the 5990 in the gym
I got a thing for shiny little things


What can I say? I′m like a young black Biden with a trim (woo)
Presidential when I'm ridin′ in the Bimz
Taking pictures with my cameraman, I'm shining in my skin
For eight-figures I'm Aubameyang, I go and sign the ting, a′ight
I never wonder about who I could′ve been, 'cah I′m here
Rose Gold frosted or ceramic
Told bro spin it so he span it
We are not the same, big Mike's from a whole different-

Top bins, what a set piece, fling it in the net
Could′ve Jet Li kick him 'til he bled
And, I′m rent-free livin' in their head
What's that quote? Ooh, "kill them with success"
Talkin′ smoke, please, give it all ah
Still dripping in finesse (goddamn)
Man, I got figures and flows I′m a different kind of F
Got a Lambo' and a Rolls, that′s a different kind of cheque
And I said I was the G.O.A.T., they didn't listen when I-


A′ight, any time I do a big flex, just ignore me
Niggas wanna hear my side of the story
Niggas wanna hear a nigga chat like it's Maury
Fuck that, you niggas better bask in my glory
They call me to slide through the store ′cah I'm so patterned
To be fair we don't go Hatton
We don′t tell lies
I think the kids call it no cappin′
The boys rough but the flows satin
I J Hus'tle and I′m MoStack'ing, they wanna′ catch me on the roads lackin'
You better pray that it don′t happen (niggas)

And, I don't sell drugs, still I'm dope rappin′
Have your whole pattern Stiff Chocolate with the book
To be fair, I don′t feel Twitter
Gettin' told I′m not a real spitter by some broke-arse bill splitter
Listen, nigga, you got bigger fish to fry, like
If I ever see your girlfriend in Dubai, oh Lord
Party on the boat, she's onboard and the Birkin is a bag you can′t afford, and she'd like one
Do the maths, you ain′t the right one
It's alright, son, we'll send her back before the nights done

I wrote one, light one, eight-out-of-ten
She′s my a′ight one, think of a hit then I write one
On when I sight one
This my, this my Ghanaian flow, it's a tight one (eh-ehn)
If she pretty then I put her on a flight
I put her on a jet if her pussy-, wait

Look, my nephews are listenin′, and my chef should be Michelin
There's guests in my kitchen and my left wrist is glistenin′
And my tunes getting played from a set to a christenin'
They′re pissed on the net 'cause I said I ain't listenin′
Ugh, real niggas know it′s all positionin'
Real niggas know I′m not the victim
Alright, I am, I'll take the L, they hype the ′Gram
They tell their jokes to spite the man
I feed my folks, they bite my hand
I do the most, I'll fly to Cannes to watch a film, then bye, alright

Headline Reading and Leeds like it′s easy
Funny when they talk about the game 'cah it needs me
Niggas wanna hear a nigga spill it all to Zeze
Fuck that, you niggas didn't know that I′m greazy
It′s easy, man talk shit until they see me
Believe me, all you niggas give me (heebie jeebies)
Word to Lauryn, I will die on this Hill
You little nigga's two figures shy on my deal
Someone slide me the bill (okay, I got it)
What my eyes don′t see, the Messiah reveals
If it all goes left, give Jasiah my will
'Cah I guess I′m just the bredda that they're dyin′ to kill, ah (woo)

Your boys mad dark, still I shine like a grill
Yeah, I'm healthy and I'm blessed but I rhyme like I′m ill
Line backer, holdin′ down the line like Khalil, ooh (ooh, ooh)
I live a life that they try to fulfil
So, they hate on my name but admire my skill
And before I touch stage, gotta wire my 'mil, ah
My niggas do drill that was prior to drill
If you see me with my dragons lookin′ fly in the field
Know Khaleesi couldn't fathom all the fire I spill, nah

You old washed niggas should retire, for real
There′s a time you should move, and a time to be still
There's a time to destroy and a time to rebuild
But, all I see is washed up godfathers and washed up podcasters
I own all my masters, I ain′t got masters
I throw a party on the yacht and wear my Yacht Master
They think I just chart top, but I'm the top charter

Gaffer like I'm Scott Parker
From when the mandem use to rock parkas
I am Nasty, but, I′m not Marcus
Genius, I could′ve clocked Harvard
My niggas slide but they are not dancers
Dead rappers wanna swap chargers
Nah, I mean they wanna swap stances
Nah, I mean they wanna trade places
Get to scrappin' like I ain′t famous
Have you dashin' like you′re Dwain Chambers
Follow fashion, man, you fake greatness

To make a classic, yeah, it takes ages
But, I still do it like my mate David
Nah, I mean like my bro Dave
Me and MIST, that's a close shave
They fear this but they won′t say, I'm the nearest on a cold day
They love to talk about the old days
Them man are old like, "Annie, are you okay?"
I prefer not to speak like I'm José
(I prefer really not to, not to speak, If I speak I am in, in big trouble)
(Woo)

This is what I meant when I said what I said
I got whips in my drive, pretty women in my bed
My accolades are bigger than my head
Stylo told me, "Kill ′em ′til they're dead"
(The killy′dem ah carry one inna di head)
(Don Dada, kick arff face with bank robber)
If it's a ting then I′ll just pattern it like Trev, ay

Man, I got 'teks like I′m Kylian, punch like I'm Dillian
Walk in a gym and I bump into William
Yeah, the S on chest, yeah, that stands for "success"
But the M on my hairline stands for my millions
Ah, I got a brilliant car
I got a brilliant team, they wanna bring up my past becah I'm livin′ my dream
What we achieved ain′t a shock 'cah we knew it
We just stepped all clean and said, "Mel made me do it", ask Mel

Now, there′s not enough space in my wardrobe
Benjart fitted on my waist and my torso
Niggas keep on thinkin' I′m a chief, oh, you thought so?
Chatty patty niggas, man, you niggas need a talk show
I've never seen real dons turn loose women
Sleep real good, fresh sheets, new linen
If we ever played a game called "Guess Who′s Winning?"
Then you open up the door, I'll be in the room chillin' (message)

There′ll never be a time where me and you′s are twinnin'
Why? Different status, my chicks the baddest
You know the bags Chanel, the trips to Paris
And if your boy′s a King, the bit's a palace
Okay, three O2s that I sell-out, man, I′m such a sellout
Might fuck around and bring Adele out
Me and Flipz don't talk like we fell out
Ah, get the hell out, all the shit I gotta′ spell out
Please A, double-L, O-W me
Every time I double-plaque they go and double my P
I was double-spread Mike, now, I cover I.D
I wouldn't cover for you dickheads if you covered my-

Ah, I knew they wouldn't like it if I blow
Got all your niggas rattled but you hide it on the low
I′m from the city where they′re ridin' with the pole
And now my nephews can′t believe that Spider-Man's my bro
Shout Tom, that′s my guy, on-top 'til we die
Yeah, I skip through the world, hop-scotch to Dubai
There′s a lot to divide but my God will provide
Couldn't get to where I'm goin′ if you hopped in my-

I got TJ tellin′ me we're done
Said, "I thought I have an hour left?"
Ah, man, my enemies are out of breath
I pray, then I fast, then I counter-press
Spent a week in the sticks, but tonight I′m at my South address
Ah, you know how it gets
Holy Spirit, that's just how I′m blessed
A'ight, 20 bags for my shower head, a nigga gotta′ shower fresh
You little boys are out your depth

Know I got Ashford on the yard and Yianni on the wrap
I mean, I'm Yianni on the rap
I'm the best at what I do, they think I′m braggin′ on the track
But, I'm flexin′ 'cah it′s true, and if you went and run it back
You'd know I′d left you with the truth
'Cause cars don't make you this lit
The money don′t make you this good
The plaques don′t make you this cold
Give a fuck what my shit sold
I buss a rhyme when I'm in flip mode, you pricks know
The boy′s just way too nice so you always see my music on the shelf
I've been the G.O.A.T. for so long that they never hype a nigga up
So, I guess I gotta do it to myself, boy