Picture me, 23, a bag of sold out shows
I made it out of music, I took all my bros
And this merchandise is poppin', I sell all my clothes
And all these hoes are ghost, I got one real girl

Picture me, 23, I didn't chase my dreams
My mum wanted me to do finance, so I came off beats
And now I'm sitting at a desk, with a 2:2 in finance
Eating pasta on my lunch break
While I'm scribbling my rhymes

And picture me, 17, in an all black suit
Laying still in a coffin, surrounded by my crew
Giving half-heart apologies
For watching while they bottled me
Or running when they shot at me
You're next up if you prodigy, wait
I meant poke a G

Picture me, a road banger, I hope that you don't notice me
No face for the road, my G
Kill him in seven ways, lemon haze how I smoke a G
Name can get you out the beef, pissed if you owe me Ps
Them boys try and piss take, boy, what a mistake
I'll come back with a shotty
And blow your lungs out your rib cage

Picture me a snitch, nah, I couldn't picture that
Picture me a snitch, nah, I couldn't ever think of that
Picture me with a baby mum
That didn't wanna see me blow
So she let my talent go to waste like Robinho

I've been involved, I've seen the roads
Where the good die young, and the bad get life
And the ugly is the ugly, but

Picture me, a legend, worldwide or in Streatham
Known for words in a sentence, I put verbs in a sentence
There's action in my letters and I never compromise
Nor follow what the trend is, I create my own style
'Cause I got my own agendas, I got music all that matters

But what about the yutes that ain't athletes or rappers?
What about the yutes that ain't athletes or rappers?

Picture you, I don't know your picture, can you paint it for me?
And can you take out all the man that's gonna taint it for me?
And can you take out all the girls that's gonna waste it for me?
Or illustrate how you're gonna get to all these places for me?

And if you can't, then don't worry G, you got time
But you just need to paint a picture, or just sketch a draft
'Cause, how you know you're going down the wrong road
If you're in a dark place, and you don't select a path

But picture you talking loads about goals and riches
With a phone, full of cro shots, hoes and bitches
And a head filled with fast dreams

I talk to God like it's RE
About my picture 'cause I can't see
I'm at war with my mind
So I'm still with a sket getting Ed like Hardy
And I don't mind
'Cause them man there all speakers like Parties

I'm conflicted on this mission
So I'm still in the mist with a black star on my waist like Kwame
Guys are on my case
It's like I wasn't dialing banks for some pay
While you was busy flicking shanks for a name
Or busy robbin' drugs, with a dipper

Or you could call me Scofield
Why? 'Cause I got prison in my skin
But I won't ever have a prison in my picture

Listen to my scripture, like teachers with teardrops
Principles a killer, all for the skrilla
But, it's not hard, it comes from within
So don't let anybody tell you to put drugs in the cling
And don't let anybody tell you you can't run, dance, sing, or be a baller
You can be a king

Now you can work a nine-to-five if it makes you smile at night
Money ain't a measure of success
'Cause you can have a billion and dead
You can have 20 grand flat and live a long, long life with no stress

So listen
I don't know your picture, can you paint it for me?
And can you tell me where you batch of friends is taking you?
And can you tell me what your aspirations are, your dreams
Forget the money brother, tell me what makes you you?

Can you tell me why you wake up, what makes you tick?
What makes you smile, what makes you laugh, what makes you sick?
Can you tell me why you're on this earth
Can you tell me why you're living

Is it in and out of prison?
Are you tryna touch a nation?
Or are you tryna touch a paigon?

You get your picture, get to painting
Are you playing in a stadium?
Or are you sitting in a station?

You get your picture, get to painting
Are you the guy inside the hospital
That's praying that he makes it
Or working with the surgeons and the nurses tryna save him?

Are you buried in a grave?
For some pennies and a chain
A memory that fades
A picture you didn't paint

I bet them boys think I'm panicking
Pep Guardiola, G, I'm managing
Stop saying that you beef me, it's embarrassing
I never had these paigons, 'til my face was on this rapping ting

Now every other yute is on chatty ting
See me in a rave, it's black blades, lightsabers call me Anakin
Music, money, paigons, education, fam I handle it
I try so hard in my tracks to give a message

But it's messed cah I'll still get you shredded by some savages
I swear you don't know pressure
Ask Jack, I had labels playing deal or no deal like I'm Noel Edmonds
Independent, no pressure

My whole team Nike'd out to the socks, you should know better
A-levels, no pressure
And my ex just text me, she should know better
I can still paint a picture, put a pen into my hand

It's time to paint your picture my brother
Now you can go get it