Lyrics Followers - Dirty Dike

Followers

So I woke up in this mess, what do I know?
Stressed with the questions, the answer that I know
And I know that life is a tiny tight rope
And my line’s broke at a height and I’ll die slow
Dike’s no nice bloke, nah he’s a right cock
Blind when I speak like I rhyme with the lights off
Find me a sweet bit of silence, my god
So I can dive right in the light until the fight stops
Fuck the people that judge my actions
Fuck all these sequels and drug distractions
Touching the freefaller, fool all these people
It’s evil how we all get sucked to imagine like plankton
Try to duck and dive from the big fish
Drugs is business and you better fucking swim, bitch
Or wiggle fins, quick you’ll be a lost soul
Cause you want your shit, but your dealer says it got sold
Now you’re bubbling, boiling, struggling
Annoyed 'cause you’re nothing but a druggy little boy again
I’ve seen enough of it destroying men
And turned a real good mate into a cunt from a loyal friend
We’ve fought pissheads in pubs, kids let in clubs, mislead thugs all up to
sniff fresh drugs
Yes, bruv, let’s have a fake conversation
I’m the fucking man, I’m the bollocks, I’m the great one
Notes curling, and now you know your throat’s burning
Your nose bursts open, alone this bloke’s vermin
There’s no learning, brains charred and raped to bits
Pass the plate to sniff, and watch your faces twitch
Man, you worked so hard to pay for this
And it’s fucking crazy shit and I’m ashamed of it
Stages flip, the paranoia settles in
It’s more unpredictable than Barry boys on ketamine
So let the test begin, that’s the golden quote
Er, someone in this room has fucking stole my note
People gulping throats now are acting shifty
You rule the thoughts wow, you’re trapped in this scene you followers
Like dogs catching frisbees
Or spastic rappers trying to rap to sick beats
It’s piss weak and man I hate to say this
But when I take shit, my mates' faces are nameless
And it’s the same when you’re talking to me
'Cause you gawp at your feet and walk awkwardly
And your heads about as chopped as your quarter be
I know guys still snortin' at forty-three
Man, torture me
This is more than I know about
Please take my habit to the door man and show it out
Or go insane, that’s no way to know your mates
No way to shadow hate, cocaine’s a shallow grave
Man with a bag of base, it’s borderline insanity
I need to stop now before the force kind of shatters me
My thoughts fly dramatically in raw times of anarchy
Your mind’s absorbing like four tabs of Acid be