Lyrics Part Deux - Cult of The Damned, Lee Scott, Black Josh

Part Deux

Do you know which direction to to take at the intersection
Do you know which direction to to take at the intersection
Do you under stand which direction to try and take at the intersection
Can you even understand which direction is necessary to take at the intersection
Fire in my eyes like i’ve seen hell
I might walk in your house
And spit on your couch
But I mean well
I sit with a pretty beach belle
And listen to the shit
Rushing through the sewer
In a sea shell
Try your luck or do it by the book
I’m at the crash site of a flying fuck
Middle fingers up like they’re stuck
Until i’m sipping my White Lightening
From a fine china cup
It’s like you can’t even predict the gun i’ve been here
Seasons change i’ve been clear
Forecast here is swimwear
All year
In around
I’ve been around
And i’ve been there
But i’m still here
And i still disappear into thin air
At the drop of a hat
Or the click of a finger
I can promise you that
Or your money back
Funny how I navigate the streets of London now
With an ease
The likes of which my enemies would never see me coming
And I’ve been the gun and
Way before Steven Segal was under seige
I can see the sequel, the second coming
Yeah it’s Mr. Burt Bacharach of ribs
Back attackin' kids
Sufferin' suckertash I put the pussy in bandages
Activist activist, Anakin with the savagin'
Darth Vader your champion
F' your ma' while i’m dabbing' diz (mate)
Ugh, I’m billing spliffs while I’m bashin' sniff
I’ve came a long way since Biff and Chip
Ugh, heroin on my fingertips
I put it on your bitches lips
Bell us if you need a hit (EYARR)
Black Josh the beligerant
So fuckin' ignorant
I’m a scally, i’m a chav
I’m a hoodlum, I’m a lad
With a bag thats filled with piff
I was a young prat
That robbed those cats
That love yats' rides on a niggas dick
You’re thinking you’re road man
Me I’m on a cold sag at your missus' crib
Air max on your sofa
Rags i’m a stoner
Splabs of the doja
Tappin' ash onto your bitch’s tits
Last year I was broke but
Slummy bathing in your change
Now the home team chantin' yes fam
The CoDees more like (Save that)
Sending niggas right back
I’m Bellerin on the raider hood
Your missus got that brains
And now we keep her in the base jar
Flying over heads
Like when J man done got me waved off
These big batty bitches got me blowing the anus
Momma watch me mouth out of my face
I’m still that scummy fucking nuiscance
In that camp of crazy a-holes
I think my brains lying to my mind
Either that
Or you’ve got your finger in my pie yo'
But I just want to let you know
Have you thinking its my bitch to your setup ho'
Now I can take a shit where you live
Cos you had her in the crib
Taking pics with the kids (like?)
(Pause)
You don’t wanna see Bisk with a biff
Masochist and a schizo
Chattin' shit to my kin-folk
Smash a brick through your window
Your nasty bitch is a nympho (ha)
Blastin' it in her pin hole
Roll on squares
Go to work with your splab and a signal
Afro comb is a pitch fork
Vagabond
My blackburn stomp that is a crip walk
What is that?
he’s never cocked a gat
He’s only popping' caps when he’s cracking' a vimto
I’m driving smashed and jackin' banks like Rip Torn
Blastin' pigs and crashin' whips into brick walls
Tell your bitch the King called
Watch your rain transform to a shit storm
Gone insane, rotten brain from chongin' weight
Shouts to JSA for proving that doing nothing pays
I got a lot of names
Job today gone tomorrow
Whats an honest wage?
Yo
The one and only but i’m still a phoney (who?)
Kill you slowly like a filtered rollie (ha)
Closest homies still don’t know me (ugh)
Break in your crib and steal your groceries
All I do all day is smoke cheese
Then proceed to sniff coke till my nose bleeds
Overdosin' on Old E
Roll trees
Creating smoke screens, false hopes and broke dreams
Big up the crushed
Ritalin, creatine and coke team
I want a low key
On the pole clean
Prole queen
She asked me who the fuck is Jolene
Smoothed it up like —
«don't worry 'bout that»
Your crews a bunch actin' sound rats
Fakest steeze, chasin' cheese in the mouse traps
S ain’t about that
Im in the house like where your spouse at?
Those gutter, butter flows I announce that
With undertones
Covered though
Your mother knows
I end ya with the super eagle that murders souls with my mansion
Thoughts from a dark web of lyrics
With flows of arsenic and ricin
Mustard gas blast when he chat broke on a search engine
Fuck you if i’m offendin' all you frauds that are pretendin' (blah)
Army coat rags from the depths of the skittin worthless
Choke your brain with violence
Silence those who try and scratch the surface
Socially, your arse is where your face is trading places
I’m faking legless
On a self made trolley
And hustle spaces
Do you know which direction to to take at the intersection
Do you know which direction to to take at the intersection
Do you under stand which direction to try and take at the intersection
Can you even understand which direction is necessary to take at the intersection