Freestyle Pirate Radio

Intro – station ID style

Yeah, locked in, 100.3 style

Riddles energy, still running the dial

From the old cassette to the new machine

Spitting the same way we used to on the scene

Verse 1

Like this chemist hide the blemish, another MC got smacked

Standing tips when I transmit, lyrical deep, I don't look back

Lost but I stand still like a mannequin, stop panicking

Just playing when the kid's okay, never plan on vanishing

Day of the glance, your brain enemies get swallowed

Get sprayed, do the player, they say Scott played and got hollowed

Bank raid into survivor, dive and get paid with a mate

Back of the truck, champagne, lemonade, never drop the plate

Renegade greens gonna blind seek so many miles away

They're so nice, how you know, pick up the bow man anyway

Control your miner to your daughter, which target was around

Tonight I'm having fun with your only one, still holding the crown

We are controlling transmission, cultural rewind

Number one against the razor sharp, problem Irish in the mind

Call me the loop of this apprentice, spit one little flow like a fist

Take out your front deep like a dentist, stop sitting in the ocean, this is it

Hook

Verse 5

Acid in the wire, Riddles in the rave

Nineteen ninety something got me back up in the cave

Squelch on the speaker, MCs on the fade

Tell them bring the twelves, I got the riddim ready made

Twist the little knob until the 303 scream

Faces in the strobe like a hyperactive dream

Whole crew bouncing, nobody sitting down

Five minutes turned to nine, still holding the crown

Jungle in my ribcage, breaks beneath my feet

Original dubplate, extra hard to beat

Man said he was next, man is nowhere to be found

Rewind the whole tune just to watch them hit the ground

Hundred and three on the dial, Riddles on the mic

Acid dropping heavy like a satellite strike

Legs going crazy, arms up in the air

If you didn't come to move then you shouldn't be here

Breakdown

Roll it back, roll it back

Roll it back, roll it back

One more time for the crew in the back

Interlude

One more time on the dial

Hundred point three, still rolling

Pass the mic to the next generation

Watch this

Verse 7

New breed stepping in the rave with the old tape

Bright eyes, big dreams, no escape

They heard it on the pirate, now they're standing in the line

Little kid from the estate with a riddim in his spine

Teach them how to hold the mic, teach them how to ride

Teach them that the original never really died

Two decks, one mixer, one dubplate of gold

Story of the scene is the story they were told

Acid in the classroom, jungle in the hall

Garage on the stairwell shaking every wall

When the teacher asks a question, put your hand up high

Answer with a riddim, watch the whole class fly

Breakdown

Pass it down, pass it down

Pass it down, pass it down

From the old heads to the young guns

Pass it down, pass it down

(Hold it up)

Verse 8

Respect to the selectors, respect to the crew

Respect to the man on the door who let us through

Respect to the mums and dads who let us out at night

Respect to the DJs who kept the flame alight

Thirty years of breaks and they still sound new

Thirty years of basslines running clean and true

Some of us got day jobs, some of us got kids

But the minute that the needle drops, we're back in the biz

Shoulders getting looser, hearts are getting loud

Every single face in here is part of the crowd

Nobody's a stranger when the riddim is the guide

Everybody's family on the hundred point three side

Hook

Years ago they said this sound would fade, years ago

Years ago they said the rave was overplayed, years ago

Look around the room, it's bigger than before

Original the style and the style's still raw

Hands up in the air from the front to the back

Hundred point three, ain't no turning back

Verse 9

Kettle's on the stove and the tape's on the deck

Grandad in the armchair nodding to the wreck

He was there in ninety two with a whistle and a lighter

Now his grandson's on the mic and the riddim's getting tighter

Pass the baton, pass the torch, pass the flame

Verse 11

Signal coming strong from the other side of town

Yard tape in the bag and the bass is going down

Selectors on the corner with a speaker in a crate

Every little youth in the dance got a plate

Ragga on the microphone, patois in the air

Uncle from Kingston say the riddim treat him fair

Bass run deeper than the river in the rain

Hundred point three got the whole road insane

Gal dem a wine, man a stand up tall

When the dubplate drop, everybody a bawl

Sound clash on a Friday, trophy on the line

Winner take the title and the title is mine

Verse 12

Call up the foundation, call up the elder

Nineteen ninety two was a serious welder

Soldering the wire to the speaker cone

Making something out of nothing on a council estate loan

Borrowed the turntables, borrowed the van

Borrowed every record from a next man

Now we own the blueprint, now we own the sound

Every little pirate station spinning it around

Brixton to Bow, Hackney to Harlesden

Every postcode got a soldier in the garden

Growing up the riddim like a yam in the ground

When the harvest come in, you can hear the whole town

Breakdown

Wheel it up, wheel it up

Wheel it up, wheel it up

From the yard to the rave, wheel it up

Wheel it up, wheel it up

(Pull it back)

Verse 13

Two in the morning and the door still swinging

Half the crowd gone but the rest still singing

Sweat on the ceiling, condensation on the glass

Nobody leaving cause the riddim moving fast

DJ got a reload and the place go mad

Hands in the sky like we just got saved

Promoter in the corner doing sums on his phone

He don't know that this is bigger than the money he loaned

This is Sunday morning coming through the blinds

This is every single soul that ever stood in the line

This is nineteen ninety something never going away

Hundred point three till the break of day

Verse 14

Little sis on the mic now, she was born in oh-five

Never seen a cassette but the riddim keep her alive

Learned the whole flow off a clip on her phone

Now she's standing on the stage and she's holding her own

Elder on the sideline nodding slow

Says the youth dem got the fire, let the youth dem go

Two generations trading bars in the dark

Every single line lighting up a spark

This is how a culture stay alive and stay true

Not in a museum, in the middle of the crew

Pass the mic, pass the knowledge, pass the love

Hundred point three got a blessing from above

Hook

Years ago they said this sound would fade, years ago

Years ago they said the rave was overplayed, years ago

Look around the room, it's bigger than before

Original the style and the style's still raw

Hands up in the air from the front to the back

Hundred point three, ain't no turning back

Verse 15

Sunrise over rooftops, speakers getting cold

Packing up the crates like we packing up gold

Someone's in the car park humming what we played

Riddim in the bloodstream, never gonna fade

Bus stop, bakery, queue for the bread

Two strangers humming bassline inside of their head

This is how it travels, this is how it grows

Not on the telly, in the streets where it flows

Tell the little children when they ask what we did

We built a whole world out of rhythm and riddim

Tell them when they ask why we stayed up so late

We were guarding something sacred at the hundred point three gate

Verse 16

Respect to the mothers holding down the home

While the father's on the decks till the early morn

Respect to the workers on the Monday shift

Running on three hours and a riddim for a lift

Respect to the pirate aerial up on the roof

Caught a fine for the frequency, never went soft

Respect to the record shop, dusty and small

Where a kid could walk in and walk out with it all

This is for the forgotten, this is for the unsung

Every single selector with a tape in the trunk

We don't need a trophy, we don't need a crown

Just a speaker and a crowd and the hundred point three sound

Outro

And we still here

From the yard to the estate to the whole wide world

Riddles on the dial, never getting old

Hundred point three, forever the call

Big up Jamaica, big up London, big up all

Fifteen minutes deep and we still standing tall

Still locked in

Never