| Am I wack like your first show?
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| Or am I bad like a black magic curse
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| No I’m fat like a burst nose
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| Clap from the back to the third row
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| Back slappin' birds am I just a sack of words and some cracked bones?
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| Am I lost in this bucket full of knuckleheads?
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| Fucking messed scuffles when you’re drunk and theres nothing said
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| Am I missin' out on love in my public bed?
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| Nothing best trust but I’m stuck puffin' skunk instead
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| Am I tough as lead? |
| Cuss what my mother said
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| Trapped 'til I spread rubbish dust now we’re huggin' less
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| Am I causing your husband some sudden stress
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| Or am I just another bumpkin thats under dressed
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| None the less
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| They say I’m tight like a shrunken vest, why?
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| 'Cos I’m fucking fresh, rhyming like drunken sex
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| Am I trapped in the spiral of drugs and death
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| The vinyl that’s scratched or the cries when your mother’s dead
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| I’m in your mind when it bubbles red
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| So I’m like five tons of trouble when there’s nothing left
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| A sick muddle, am I a kiss or a big cuddle
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| Am I a big fat shit or a sick puddle
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| Am I the dick muscle twitch when your bitch struggles
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| This is it juggle this script 'til I spit rubble
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| Quick swiftness, shit am I a bit pissed?
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| Sick as the switchblade gripped by the thick stubble
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| Am I normal or am I sane?
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| Shall I snorkel my way through the thoughts of my shallow brain
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| And not pause 'til I’m back again?
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| Am I gorpin' in pain at my war face or am I vain?
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| Am I the skin of the drum that you’re tappin' on?
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| Clap along let your head snap to a happy song
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| Am I a back stage pass or a
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| Smile as wide as your fat mates arse?
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| My rap breaks glass and takes half your mates bars
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| Straight past ancient days and leaves great scars
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| Leaves great fucking scars, yeah
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| Am I the tidbits, the what is this? |
| The hot business?
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| Who’s got spirit and only stops to rock lyrics?
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| A novelist with a lot of shit in his oesophagus
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| The doctor said stop but I’m lost so I’ve got to spit
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| What is this? |
| And thats an obvious blag
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| Am I captain piss man’s colostomy bag?
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| Or a spot in your mag or a slag getting robbed?
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| Oh God this is mad I’ll just dodge it and plan
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| To escape the fates and be free when I suffocate
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| Nothings changed, drunk, puffin' eighths in a fucking state
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| In a fucking state
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| Fuck off
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| Am I the missing link?
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| Hobbit feet, tree swinging monkey grin
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| Tectonic hints of a stone-faced chiseled chin
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| Am I the will to win?
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| Like a million men who missioned in the depths of winter
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| To stop Nazi militia men pillaging their villages
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| Man am I the village idiot?
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| Who dribbles mic-deliverance spinning the riddled synonyms?
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| Through righteous limbs and ligaments, for instance
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| Imagination figments illuminate the darkness in the distance
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| Am I paddling like pimps in down dead man’s curve?
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| Or am I drinking pints of piss just like a bed pan perv?
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| Until my head can swerves, is this the head case hurts?
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| Smuggling verbs over across vidicodes you choose to observe
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| Am I that class A dude spitting class A tunes at dark venues?
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| Find me in blacked out backrooms
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| Of the man on the moon strapping head shoots
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| While simultaneously cooking up some scag in a spoon
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| Am I that cynic with many lyrics?
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| The devil with existential metaphysics questions in the age of scripts to paint
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| the minds of millions?
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| Or am I another one of many earth bound spirits?
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| Tried to fight the theorists only to find I’m made in his image
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| Am I just a set of useless shapes and shady remarks?
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| A person can bode the penny’s chaupar shining, what?
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| The shadiest parts
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| Wrist slit as I lay in the bath
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| I see a red sea embark
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| Even Moses couldn’t part with his magical staff
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| Satanical scars, diagonal charms
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| See I’m the man 'til I’m outreaching my mechanical maniacal scars
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| Spitting cannibal bars
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| Filled with sicker imagery than a VHS of Animal Farm
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| Am I that man who walks in circles never learning a thing?
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| Almost regressing every second through a blaze before I felt I figure my sins
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| A single organism twitching
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| Before the axis of the Earth had ever started to spin
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| Am I the vibrating hammer on the strings with over-rapid ivory hits
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| Echoing inside grand piano lids?
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| Or am I the software packages that cut and paste the symphonies for kings into
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| a bangin' loop of gigs?
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| Am I the sun-dance kid?
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| Am I the matrix glitch?
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| Am I the dusty vinyl scratches and skips these amazing scripts?
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| See its weed-psychosis of a garbage pail kid
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| I never stabbed him in the ribs it was the demons in my mind that did
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| Am I the last laughing lager lout?
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| Downing car scales in large amounts before last orders, fast passing out
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| Fastest bastard about to blast an ounce
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| Who’s barred from half the bars in town?
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| Am I Ed Scissortongue?
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| What? |
| His alter ego’s got me going psycho over songs
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| Am I that wack jam host, likes to backhand foes?
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| It’s best advised that you avoid him like a pac-man ghost |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Am I , by - Dirty Dike. Song from the album Bogies & Alcohol, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп