| Next new message
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| Received today at 3: 15pm
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| Fucking dick
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| It’s Dike
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| I need BPMs for beats, I’m at the studio
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| Sort me out, ring me on this number, bye
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| Uh, uh, uh, fuck
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| Peel the peen back
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| Return of the twat x 16
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| Yo, I’ve been sniffing drugs and writing raps all on my own again
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| My nose has bled and everything I know is screaming go to bed
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| 50/50 balance, ask an audience to phone my friends
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| I’m talking to an open door, withdrawing frozen pens
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| Spider graphs are forming in the thoughts within my broken head
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| But lately I’m a slave to maybe I’m just so depressed
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| Either way I’ll re-arrange the demons in my leaky brain
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| And try to speak the truth on every beat and never seem insane
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| But I’ve been punching double-glazed windows in the street again
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| break I see the mirrored images of me in pain
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| It’s getting weird
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| Weirder than the prison is unless she’s here
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| I never climb lesson of respect what your head’ll fear
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| Never beer, cut the middle man and swig a pint of gin
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| And dribble liquid nitrogen until my little eyeballs spin
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| I think of this delightful spinning individual life we live
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| And sink into a minefield of simpletons and silent
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| (You can’t say that)
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| I’ll fucking say what I want
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| You pricks couldn’t stop me with a mace in my gob
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| I’m treating rapping like it’s wanking 'til I’m breaking my cock
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| And if I’m honest I’m ashamed of what we’re rating as pop
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| We’re celebrating like a bunch of naked alien gods
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| Laying in slob, wasting in this crater of knobs
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| I wait patient, sitting with a glimmer in my eye
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| Like I’m looking in the mirror and this isn’t a disguise
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| A vision of the wise
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| With a sprinkle of the light/delight
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| I’m a system overload, your mind’d sink into the night
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| And I’ve been thinking this for time
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| It’s a shitty bitter world we live
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| Gimme a whiskey and a pretty little girl to fist
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| Mad stabber when I’m strangling the lamb dagger
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| Fat slappers getting dazzled by my glam swagger
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| Flank steaker man’s madder than a box of frogs
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| SloshPots gotta wash
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| I’ll leave her socket bust
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| Penis popping like a rocket screaming off the god
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| I’m all about the sandwich drip
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| Your pasty lips all wrapped round a manly stick
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| of bitch
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| Pound it and drown the kids
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| With the wrists slit
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| Listen to the sound of piss
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| I’m quick to stick fists in her
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| The piss-listener, I’m quick to stick fists in her
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| I build bricks and sticks to kill Nicola
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| Still ripping your knickers, the real blister
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| And giving you meal tickets to visit that’s still dicking ya
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| And I’m a dickhead certified
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| Dirty Dike, turning life into pimp sex world at night
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| Your pussy looking like a bacon and cheese wrap
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| I’m making the thing clap
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| Naked so please that
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| Terminator penetrate her til her knees snap
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| Feed that, a meat stack of beef, peel the bean back
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| Was that too much? |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Return of the Twat, artist - Dirty Dike. Album song Return of the Twat, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп