For once, I'm hyping something within a year of its release date. But this is grime superstars P Money and Black The Ripper vocalling what can only be described as garage's answer to that Cee-Lo song.
It's grime lyrics (read: London braggadocio) on a garage beat that would have sounded fresh in about 2001. And it's aged so well - turns out garage is the urban Chateauneuf-Du-Pape. There's so much to like about this - especially the shout-out to Ipswich. One of my friends once had sex in Ipswich.
In all seriousness, this is a perfect summer song - especially if 2001 was your perfect summer. And ethnomusicologists can jizz over it as a beautiful example of music renewing its roots.
I just can't wait until the instrumental version comes out so that I can bump this in my mum's car without her saying, "What did he say???" (and not in a P Money way)
It's a rip, so skip to 0:30 if you don't want to hear The Actual Love Of My Life introducing it.
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