Lyrics Velvet Swamp - Dead Players, Jam Baxter, Dabbla

Velvet Swamp

Listen, Yo
I represent myself, ain’t one for telling tales
I puff a lot of L’s cause I love the way it smells
If you ask me it’s cool long as no one’s getting raped
But film it just in case cause that devil shit sells
Everything is digital, can’t afford a twelve
No one wants some CD sitting on the shelve
But if Gaga can sing about sucking man’s off
And JLS can sell sex to underage girls
Well, I’ma do my thing and chuck it in the mix
If you ain’t feeling it then you can suck a bag of dicks
Cause I’ve been using words so long they’ve lost meaning
You can find my life’s work scribbled cross the ceiling
And in the meantime who gets the lean in?
Scratching for that meaning, fuck about and catch it like a beating
Please be seated, MC’s are getting de-leted
Dabbla keep it gourmet fresh, your shits reheated
Keep sleeping on it, no one’s gonna prosper
Watch the way we come and bring a wallop to your roster
I creep upon you while you swallowing your Costa
Dead Players running shit from Holloway to Gloucester
Murder the imposter, for fronting like a mobster
Odds are you’ll be screaming like a boiling lobster
So what’s the fuss about, who the hell do you think you are?
Same deal, still the same guy, still pimping ‘ard
(Verse 2 — Jam Baxter)
I awake from the dream as a blurred mess
With my mouth still sore from screaming the word yes
Every time I was asked if I needed a next beverage
Or if the views cris from this mountain of dead Hedonists
Last one standing
My shredded flesh felt the wrath of every cloud and smog
And speck of powder on this stealth attack
I left them with a translucent Lucifer that held them back
Bitching ‘bout the rinse they weren’t welcome at
Peering through the key holes with small sacks of floundering skin
Throwing towel after towel in the ring
I’m on a lifelong cotch
Magnified white hot dots got the ants pranging out when the disguise washed off
Got my style on lock and cello taped to my face
Decorated and abled, the celebration awaits
With this whole city tangled in my beard
Weighing me down and my chins scraping the ground
Like a generation of snakes
A swap the spare screen that I keep deep in my gullet
For a glass of dry white and a three seater to summit
When it kicks off, I’m skiing off
Peace this evening
Swirling round the street lights, bruised up and bleeding
My fam’s still jamming, too spangled to run
With two legs in a ditch and these two tabs on my tongue
Repackage my brain and boot back to the slums
With a sign that reads decadence blue tacked to my gun
(Verse 3 — Dirty Dike)
I be that nicknamed, prick James
Came from the bridge, where the kids make mixtapes and paint when they’re pissed
In those shit stained kicks, getting chased by the pigs
Was my favourite shit from the days that we lived
What a place to exist, my heart lies in New Street
Ever since new pass, the past times have moved me
Our lives were boozy, maybe I’m just dreaming
Before I leave the club you’ll have to scrape me off the ceiling
I buy a car load of avocados
And roam about laughing in pyjamas and a bath robe
And at our shows you get a free dildo
And be thoroughly encouraged not to wear any real clothes
Just a hard hat, pair of the steel toes
Give my buzz back, you dare try and steal those
Eels, crows, cats, dogs, mice, rats, stick insects
I’ll put you in a pillow case and chuck you in the river next
Suffering from liver stress
Fuck it I’ve been nothing but a drunkard since I quit the breast
Love it, I be sucking it and fuck if any chicks impressed
A liquor heads, a liquor heads and I’m in love with cigarettes
I went to hell and back again
And still got arrested by the devil with my sack of paint
Racking straight massive great stripes up of crystal lines
Sinking as the bitter rise distance me I sympathise
(Verse 4 — Edward Scissortongue)
The carrots on my shoulders spitting monologue squalking
Why won’t my feathered friend just stop talking?
Jabbering about life’s stories, trying to live my thoughts
In the sentences I taught him
Bun the parrot, dash him out the driving seat
Flapping ‘bout redemption getting flattened by a JCB
This tar black tarmac sparks as the cars crash
Feathers flew skyward gracefully
I’ll throw nelly swerve under a low bridge
Plunder the piss stop, no body noticed
Spitting venom in this summer city solstice
Off to another city, gunning down these roads quick
It’s like these people fail to notice
The 8 track, brain trap, muzzles on their noses
Pummelling the toe clips, hammering the pedals
Power slide the hair pins, gunning for the medals
See you in the meadows, speaking til the sun set
Even if the evil gushing even wants to run red
Yo we run red lights like we want death
Running like a pussy at a street fight, dun said
This goes out to the wise men birds
With the packages of gold bars, frankincense and mur
Bun the camel, exchange it for a monolithic curse
And join us gunning to your city, drinking Whiskey as we swerve