| I was thinking like we just, all get together, in between now and when we it
|
| out and just all get pissed in Holloway and just like have a cypher in the
|
| booth and just record it and then just like mash up a couple of like,
|
| you know like minute and a half pieces and bits of cyphering, and then that’s
|
| like exclusive freestyle shit cause the kids love that
|
| Yeah yeah yeah. |
| that sounds good
|
| And then that’s, that’s 500 quid
|
| Shit son
|
| Basically, guaranteed no brainer
|
| We could just spend that on strawberry daiquiris and mopeds
|
| Exactly that’s booze money
|
| Ehehe. |
| I’m rentin' a moped. |
| Deff. |
| We’ve got’a get some motorbikes
|
| Shit, the last time I was in a moped I was like «weeewrereeeeeeggghh waaaahhhh»
|
| Yeah, uh, it’s all. |
| It's all distorted.
|
| And its awkward, I stab an orphan with an orchid
|
| And pork sword it, then I feed it to a swordfish
|
| Awesome shit, shaving a pasty
|
| I’m raping David Blaine with an ashtray
|
| He’s like, «Please stop it»
|
| He’s Wallace and she’s Gromitt
|
| Bangin' on the moon, strangle a baboon
|
| Kick him in the fanny then I bang it with a broom
|
| I’m in lesbian prison
|
| Dying on my own, cryin' at the throne
|
| Violent with the bone
|
| Pull the bone off and snap if in half
|
| I’m just havin' a laugh
|
| Are we ready?
|
| Are we ready?
|
| Are we ready?
|
| I’m just havin' a laugh
|
| Are we ready?
|
| R-r-ready
|
| I I I I I-I'm just havin' a laugh
|
| These years are gold years, I won’t ever be rich
|
| Fuck a life I’ma live mine whatever it is
|
| I’ll get in a whip and drive like a hedonist prick
|
| Forgettin' I’m pissed and high not to mention the sniff
|
| I never question what I got in my brain
|
| I’m not afraid, I’m the most honest nov' in the game
|
| With a gob like a drain, I’m obnoxious and lazy
|
| And still gettin' props in a cotch full of ladies, baby
|
| And I ain’t gonna play unless you pay me
|
| And make me a shake eggs bacon or baked beans
|
| Never catchin' feelings actin' weak and all emotional
|
| I simply catch a beat when I’m erratic and I vocal all
|
| Sociable, overly so, but fuck passive
|
| I chat shit loads and you know my tongue’s magic
|
| My drug habit and clothes are both free
|
| Till I come home blagging in this homeless bloke’s jeans
|
| Hi, (Hello) my names Steven (What?)
|
| Would you like a little bit of company this evening? |
| (Uh)
|
| You can bring the wine (Ooh) I’ll get the cheese and (Lovely)
|
| Nah fuck that let’s get absolutely steaming!
|
| Tell the bouncer I’ma bring a gram of weed in
|
| Back stage at a rave with the grave chief’n
|
| Bag a bag of beef till I start to lose the feelin' in my face
|
| Smash the place till we’re hangin' from the ceiling
|
| (Team Hate!) Team Hate, SMB, that’s the link-up
|
| Truck a load but the whole party stink up
|
| There’s a prize at the bottom love, drink up
|
| Fuck the respect, I want the money and my dick sucked
|
| Hawaiian shirt on my back (Splash)
|
| Cool Runnings, rockin' that John Candy swag
|
| In fact what you want is penis
|
| So I tell her that she’s better on top like my team is
|
| Whose that dashing young exec making power moves in the board room
|
| Who told his secretary to never put your calls through? |
| Not me
|
| But picture that level of ignorance
|
| And triple it and I will still be more rude, fuck your crew
|
| I’m like Jaws, you’re more like Jaws 2
|
| Same sorta thing, not as good, poor you (Aww)
|
| I’m like Bishop but with more juice
|
| Unzip my flies then I put them in your soup (Word play)
|
| Word to my potential unborn kids
|
| Rappers forfeit and turn yellow like jaundice
|
| Don’t like my shit? |
| Well horses for courses
|
| But my guess is you’re the sort of prick
|
| Who thinks ballin' would be scorin' with a Geordie Shore chick
|
| During a Majorca trip you probably saw her in The Sport, that cost 40 quid
|
| My name is Dr. Syntax I’m on some awesome shit
|
| But you already knew that didn’t you, of course you did
|
| It’s pannin' out and I ain’t found no gold yet
|
| Find me where the surface is wet but there’s no mould yet
|
| I’m all in and rappers start to fold bets the stage before an old vet
|
| Puttin' holes in circles where the soul left
|
| Blow clefts through smoke rings to test my aim
|
| Don’t play notes just B flat linin' them again
|
| Keep what I C sharp 'cause this world can get insane |
| Fuck lies, fuck blame, fuck pride, fuck shame
|
| I’m a simple creature, gimme a dame and big sack of reefer
|
| And I’ll smile like my dicks making a mouth deeper, a west of sav speaker
|
| Spring a leak in a steady flow to zone on another bangin' Dike feature
|
| Shit I might teach ya, might not
|
| Might make you spack out and kick a hole in your right speaker
|
| Tryina make this music ugly but beautiful
|
| So kids go «eurgh!», but not the head because it’s musical
|
| So. |
| if you hate my guts you can choke on my balls
|
| And I’ll take a picture of it just to post on your wall
|
| I ain’t blaggin' you up, trust me I’m an arrogant cunt
|
| A savage a drunk fuck and apparently scum
|
| Just because I get my kick out of embarrassing chumps
|
| And taggin' their drums, yeah I’m a vandal for fun
|
| Smokin' fags just to damage my lungs
|
| Screamin' life’s too short while I’m necking neat brandy and rum
|
| I do music for a livin', I ain’t gettin' a job
|
| Who the fuck’s gonna employ a stole veteran slob
|
| That turns up to his midday shift at 7 o’clock
|
| And pisses in the boss’s office while he’s telling him off?
|
| So you can catch me lookin' smashed with a spliff and a beer
|
| Feedin' a fat heffer chicken while I’m lickin' her ear
|
| It’s 5 AM and my mission is clear, I need to bust a fuckin' nut
|
| And there ain’t no other women in here
|
| Aye yo man I hold weight and control these fakes
|
| Eatin' chocolate cake, sippin' a protein shake
|
| Fat face flows, and the track plays through
|
| All these fake little rats in the trap they chose
|
| V to the fucking E to the fucking R to the B
|
| The initial is T, I’m fuckin' large
|
| That’s right, we rock homeless fashion
|
| Might spit into the crowd show no compassion
|
| Fools imaginations are overactive
|
| Oh you’re actin', I’ll burn you and mold the plastic
|
| To a new shape, two face, fuck the fake hype
|
| A new aim too shame struck with snake bite
|
| Venom in the veins, sendin' them insane
|
| Rushin' through the blood, intended for the brain
|
| So you’d do well to remember these damn names
|
| It’s the new faces of the derelict campaign
|
| Screamin' in the face of every screen and peen receiver
|
| Was the Baxstar starkers in the field of steaming ether
|
| Yeah you see him, crack hands mahoosive on a slappin' spree
|
| Slug a slug backward off the Travel Tavern balcony
|
| So how could she watch her personality evaporate
|
| Curdle in the corner and contaminate a tanqueray
|
| With tears, tears, bitter sweet tears
|
| While we’re fuckin' up the jam, with a spliff in each ear
|
| This year, shits getting fucking fucked up
|
| Round 2 acid prawn summer uncut
|
| See the top shelf smut barren plummet untouched
|
| From the sky settle safely in the blood and guts bruv
|
| Well done, recruiting for my rebel terror cell
|
| Selling second hand remains from the day heaven fell
|
| And congealed in the kitchen of every desert hell
|
| Is a mouldy eyed chief in a cracked metal shell let’s move
|
| These are the words that my brain is tellin' me to stick down
|
| On a shitty crumbled ugly fuckin' piece of paper
|
| I was thinking what the fuck he’s goin' on about
|
| But it just told me to shut the fuck up and ignite the flavor
|
| So I listen to the feeble flappin' muscle in my skull
|
| And put the pen back to the sheet until the ink would fit
|
| To be honest everything I’ve ever written in my life has been abysmal
|
| (Why?) 'Cause I’m a stupid heap of shit, I’m such a dick
|
| The most selfish twat you’ll ever meet, trust me
|
| Ask any person that I have ever known
|
| In my entire life and they’ll confirm that Edward Scissortongue
|
| Is hands down the biggest fucking cunt inside the country
|
| Plus I’m fucking stingy, I top load my zoots
|
| And I won’t drive you home to the village to the city
|
| I swear to god that if you look at me again
|
| I’ll shit my pants and start flinging fucking flaming lumps like frisbees
|
| Oi toss pot do you watch whats Top Of The Pops?
|
| Nah, I cotch with Dot Cotton hot boxin the dots
|
| And what, I’m not bothered if apocalypse drops
|
| I’ll be fox trotting bollocks with a bottle of scotch
|
| With god’s comet? |
| Stop waffling 'cause probably not
|
| Shop coffas shop shottas got us watchin' a clock
|
| Scotch bonnet hot molotov off the top |
| To polyphonic pop sonics, rock proper or what?
|
| I’m on a mission, that isn’t shit to do in spittin' writtens
|
| I’m tryna bring a difference to kids in bitter Britain
|
| If you ain’t got the time to take to listen to the wisdom
|
| Then I ain’t got the time to waste to kill the cynicism
|
| I never had the time of day for givin' it the big 'en
|
| When I spit, I spit it sick for the spirits of inhibition
|
| It’s the Mr. Kizzakizzum with a dirty double D cup
|
| A pair of massive tits keep smugglin' your peanuts
|
| It’s Big Flips the dangler, microphone damager
|
| Goin' through the green like a mutha fuckin' rambler
|
| Head’s spinnin', metaphorical jazz
|
| Still steppin' on the road rockin' nothin' but old rags
|
| Tees I’ve had for years and my jeans that are so sag
|
| Got particles of dust in the wallet but no cash
|
| All the dough I had i done spend it on chro' bags
|
| Mixed it up with pizz until memories fade to black, it’s
|
| Pointless to repent when there’s no way to go back
|
| Like a fetus in a jar after a car crash
|
| Disaster’s a par fact, I’m pavin' them bars of hash
|
| While you’re screwin' at your zoogie complainin' of hard ash
|
| You’re a rookie I’m a lad, look at me I pay in cash
|
| Cause I’m fillin' out this venue the fans are just fuckin' fab
|
| I’m a smash like glass on the concrete when it be dash
|
| Real rapper bring it back, call it zoogie man slide
|
| You can guarantee that Leaf is high
|
| So many clouds in my room it’s like my house is above the sky
|
| No lie that’s my life never lost a love
|
| Son I put it on to beat like a boxer’s glove
|
| Workin' the sub like I’m in the Navy
|
| You know the claps comin' like when the crowd’s goin' crazy
|
| Son of Lee son of Davey
|
| Bring a summary like there’s war comin' lately
|
| That’s how these cunts made me
|
| I don’t feel that hip-hop's represented
|
| The music for the poor stood where the rich sent it
|
| They’re a joke and never been a lyricist
|
| The closest thing to seeing pussy was the mirror images
|
| Don’t take the risk cause you ain’t half as nice
|
| And will remain unknown like the secrets of the after life
|
| In a world trying to search for the answer
|
| A riddle through your mind just like a brain cancer
|
| Ah hahaha haaaaa haaaa haaaaaa |