| Dirty Dikestar
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| (2MSMB)
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| Contact Play
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| (Too many of them steep fuckin steps)
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| Steep fucking steps
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| Wha? |
| This is life mate try make it easier
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| I paint my eyeballs a light shade of sepia
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| I wake at nightfall five days a week
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| And I’m shite faced
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| My minds all sideways
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| I’m creeping at my pace
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| As white chalk lines frame the scene of the crime wave
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| Believing that time waits for each of yours blind faith
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| If your piece of the pie’s tastin' sweeter than mine
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| Mate, I’ll eat you as live bait!
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| 'Cos I tried to bust rough when I was needia
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| But never held it down like I suffered with bulemia
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| And now I’m fucking with a team full of freaks
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| And we’re soon to be a feast for the scum suckin' media
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| Dumb fuck
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| Your season of dumb luck is reaching a slump son
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| I mean it, I’m pumped up and greedier for fresh meat
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| I’m neck deep in the next beat
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| Head feenin' to get lean
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| Your featureless men speak as real as a wet dream
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| Its reek on your bed sheets
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| Asleep in the the steamiest sex scenes
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| My pen speaks for the people that get me
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| You get me ya pricks?
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| I’m just sweeping your mess clean
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| So peace to Dirty Dike and Hieronymus Bosh
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| Mr Key turns inside every lock that you got!
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| So what-what? |
| what what
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| Cause I see in sepia
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| Deep-deep in sepia
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| And I’mma stay creepier
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| Creepier!
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| Creepier!
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| Creepier than a meeting with Mr. A
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| Jam Baxter, Mr. Key and a bit of James
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| That’s me and we bring the vicious pain
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| A complete waste like a needle that’s missed the vein
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| So take a seat in my picture frame
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| As we flicker straight images
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| And speak in a bitter state
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| Pissed again and my room is a grubby mess
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| Stuck in debt stress
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| And there’s too many fucking steps!
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| I’m fucked up in bed late with my eyes closed
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| Soaking in my slow life of live shows
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| But Dike knows it’s a matter of time
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| Cause dope rhymes flow fatter than a map in the sky
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| Check it
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| There’s no hope til I happen to find
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| Guys joke with the habit of attacking a mic
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| My mind opens and widens with every line spoken
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| In silence I grow, stiff inside I lie frozen
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| I say «Hi» with a kiss when I’ve woken
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| Wishing my life will exist when I’m broken
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| Pisshead spokesman
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| Lenses in sepia
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| Creep through my deep-blue speech till I’m sleepier
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| I’ve got beef and never leave it alone
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| I vivisect rippers ripping fresh meat from the bone
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| SMB!
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| CP the throne
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| In sepia, Key’s a freak, in a league of his own
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| Creeping alone, deep in the sepia tone
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| To reach in a peak I speak till your speakers are blown
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| And police on the phone are telling me to shut the fuck up!
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| Keep on your toes or you’re coming unstuck
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| That’s, tough luck like scag in a pubfight
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| Scabs on my pus dried up from a rough night
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| Snuff white in a lab full of dustmites
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| Rags on the fuck mic
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| Rap till it bust tight
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| Shook, still racking my brains
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| As the crabs in my guts ravenous pains
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| Back in the days
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| I rapped like I’m shackled in chains
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| Now I’m bad like a tramp putting scag in his veins
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| That’s just a matter of a pattern of phrase
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| As the rats rampage in this cancerous age
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| I’m bad taste, mate, fuck keeping it crisp
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| I’m cheap like deep-fried pieces of shit!
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| So peace to Daze, Jam Backer and Bosh
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| And Dirty Dike’ll ride any slapper you’ve got
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| So what-what! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Sepia , by - Dirty Dike. Song from the album Bogies & Alcohol, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп