[Locksmyth]
They said I had a rapping legend, a champ, a veteran
I was not expecting Aaron Lennon with a 'tash and fatter melon
Your team are hopeless mate; you should sell Sol-doo-doo before he's old and grey
Or hope and pray that 26 mil gets you more than five goals from open play
That boy wasn't worth the signature
And I haven't seen Tottenham do nothing significant since the days of Gascoigne and Lineker, and that amazing finish by Ricky Villa
Your trophy cabinet has trophies, with holes, mould and a rat in it
And your fans, although they're passionate, that Premier League title, they'll never get their hands on it
I'll kill him, I don't care what the law is, this is a battle bro
I'd rather kill him, than he rose
Open the door son, get off scot-free like it was not me
You're a walker, I run, you are not on my level, you are more of a supporter
And I mention those players cause I'm back for revenge, and your defense is poor bruv
I'll defeat this MC; Arsenal play some of the most exciting football seen this century
You try mimic, because you're green with envy
Nick all of our hand-me-downs - George Graham, Adebayor, Gallas and even Bentley
Honours? Still haven't managed to achieve as many

[Tony D]
Am I really battling Locks on a set, or has Michael Duberry gone and lost his Gilette?
Bruv, this ain't football, this is battle rap mate
I split your wig down the middle, look like Bacary Sagna braids
My chat bang like a hand grenade, it's real here
I've got gifts that consist of plaster casts and wheelchairs, so your career can match the pattern of Jack Wilshere's
Your team always sick, always injured, they have to sit on the shelf
They don't need fouls from the opposition to help
I mean Mertesacker did a step-over and injured himself
Paul Merson wouldn't bet on you, not against Tony's bars
It's no biggie man, you're well petit, that means small
You get broke in half, broken heart, you don't stand a hope or chance, I'm out of this world, close to stars, floating past the moon until I'm over Mars
Reflecting on the glories past
You know, that Gazza free-kick, that Danny Rose volley, and Bentley from fourty yards
And we still spit if you're mentioning Campbell
That whole saga left a stink, a stentch, it's a scandal
That's gonna go on longer than Wenger's puffa coat that stretched to his ankles
You sold Van P, and spent 40 mil on Ozil, is this real life?
Cause you went from "he scores when he wants" to "he plays when he feels like"
Now this battle, it's just promo, just get my name more hot
Labels throwing money at me, like the Spurs fans did to Walcott
Now you - getting parred with it, cause you ain't up to par with it
And you can't spell Arsenal without putting the Arse in it