Lyrics Allergic Reaction to Broccoli - Dan Bull

Allergic Reaction to Broccoli

I’m the biggest prick in this town
The British Chris Brown
Visit your award ceremony
And just sit down
I’ll slash your tire just cause I enjoy the hiss sound
Disagree with this, my sleeves’ll slip down
Fists out, swingin' 'till the 56th round
I could beat you with my wrists bound
Ha
I list my inspirations in roughly this order:
Father Christmas, Satan, and Chris Dorner
I’m spreading disorder
I diss all the rappers who I asked to collaborate and got a missed call off
Rap’s Piers Morgan
But with a pierced organ
Too much information?
Too bad, that’s the beer talking
I sit too near broads
And make them feel awkward
Randy as Ramsay
Now cook me a meal, Gordon
Now here’s the point where you might think
«Why's he still talking?
Slimey limey
Why should I see the appeal of him?»
And that’s the point
I travel through the camera
And slap you 'till you’re black and blue, Rihanna
Alicia Keys needs to improve her grammar
I’ll take a hammer to her new piano
Now you’ve had a glimpse inside the ill mind of Dan Bull
Try to get out, I doubt you will find the handle
My lines are angle grinders
They mangle rhymers
I rap into the sky
And the air force scrambles fighters
Spit fire
You stink like a lit tire
I’ll bring you down to the ground
Quick as a zip wire
Listen to this: My dick is thick and it’s large
So get onto Twitter and tell Nicki Minaj
America’s gone shit since you had Britain in charge
And fuck off if you think that’s a little bit harsh
I’ll stick a petard up in your doors of perception
Snipping the wires, no phone call for protection
I get dressed in my Sunday best
And I still look less fresh than Kanye West
So, give me the hand lotion
And phone Frank Ocean
I want to know his exact man-to-man «ient
I’m loopy, that’s limey for «so loco»
I run and rub my crotch upon an old hobo
Whilst shouting over my shoulder «No homo!»
Because fuck it, you know, «YOLO!»
Righty ho, that’s Drake’s act copied
Who am I body bagging next, A$AP Rocky?
I suppose I could, but I ain’t that cocky
I’ve already had two chains snatched off me
It’s time for payback, probably
I pack a nine-inch winky, they attract totty
And occasionally, I may strap shotties
But usually I’ll do a drive-by screwface at posses
Sneeze and leave the seats of my Maybach snotty
Green windows looking like they’re made of stained glass, Gothic
I’m a misanthropic proper maniac, potty
I got crunk off a straight black coffee
It was a bad idea to take that straitjacket off me
You just don’t have the power to restrain that, Scotty
I rap with an ill mind, «Hey, that’s Hoppy!»
I’ll tear his fucking face off, take that, Robbie!
Your production quality is way bad, sloppy
Or is your wave compression rate that lossy?
«How can Hopsin be the one that he’s dissing?»
I’m just showing I can do this and still win the competition
And then it wears off as quickly as it started.
It’s a mystery to me,
some sorta allergy I guess?