Lyrics No Explanation - Cult of The Damned, Lee Scott, Black Josh

No Explanation

Lookin' like a crack smoker
You’re lookin' at rap’s Bram Stoker
Bank rollers like a cash donor hand over
Tryna crack jokers
For the back packs of vultures of rats and roaches
Sat hopeless in the back smokin' hash, hackin' sodas
Tryna get that grand bonus
Damn dozin' Land Rovers
Overflow with dan donors
Banned from all casinos from here to Rio
Ayo a good Mum’s dumb son
At the spar with a copper jar lump sum
On the munch like Tum Tum
The sky looks glum, God’s not happy
I wear a silk suit like a pot rocked tracky
From the can piped vinyl hash hybrid
I’d get smashed and buy with me last five quid
Awkward but a nice kid
I lose sleep and find it, in the corner of an eyelid
Alright lid?
Cause it seems you’re not
It’s 'me o’clock', lost but I don’t need a plot
Elitist, I blast classic Master P shit
Lookin' like a Jesus e-fit
COTD clique, want it, fleece it
Now you don’t need to read the secret
It’s all crystal clear from here
Life is a beach with white sand a beer in your hand man
All praise the Brick Peli Posse Crew Gang fam (x2)
Blah records got the UK saggin' proud
Passin' loud, drinkin' dragger style
Still wearin' hand me downs
Or you could call them vintage clothin'
Fuck about, the (YACK YACK) will leave the linage soakin'
All my niggas know kid, watch my wrist in motion
Whippin', mixin' potions
Got your chick to open up her legs to pump to all me sweg
And now she’s fuckin' with the best, cause I don’t cum for nothin' less
Show no comfort to this guest
Got this skunk up in my head
Now i’m paranoid and beef over the cash cow
Leave your man destroyed and don’t keep the peace so back down
Are your plans of boy tryna top the league get slap down
Yeah you wonder boys are weak
You couldn’t make the last round
I get it crackin' like chapped lips white raftin'
Puttin' dick to your girl’s mouth like chap stick
I’m ransid, if you meet my maker you should thank him
Have a banquit and toast to the food for thought we slangin'
Oh boy, shit got me feelin' like Camron i’m damn wrong
Or dang strong, got mad aim, the strap long
D-d-dick so big that she thought it was a strap on
Blah records, fuck you other labels, man we back on
'Bout to put this shit on mine and Josh’s back
You could say we back strong
I fuck your ma and tell your nan to suck a fat one
I’m with the hoolagins about to put my gang on
About that bang bang, shoutin' out my crew name
Nine Eight Trayed up, but i’m (?)
Lased my spinach with butane
Blow it in your boo’s face
Champagine tooth paste
Night slum, boobs laced
G stash it like its cool cause it is now
Pissin' out perscription drugs in your bitch mouth
My new bitches dad sent me cause he’s arian
Said he wished death upon my kids cause she was wearin' 'em
How’d you hear about him?
Oh, you’ve heard about him?
Who told you about him?
No one even knows him
No one’s even seen him
Unless they were supposed to
Unless there was a meeting that was cleared with the olders
And even then I don’t see
How you’d convince the jury
Of what you thought you saw, but didn’t see
Don’t even lie to me
Why would I believe a fabrication such as that?
Who’s to say it wasn’t?
But who’s to say it wasn’t?
Who’s to say it wasn’t plagerism posin' as him?
Who’s to say I won’t dismiss this for lack of evidence?
Unless you produce a witness who’s slightly credible
Even then I don’t, see how I can entertain
Further lines of inquiry down memory lane
He’s a mistery, mythical, the stuff of fairy tale
And the further you go, the lesser you know
Some things best left unknown