
Date of issue: 19.08.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Jack the Ripper vs Hannibal Lecter |
Oi mate, pass the liquor, it’s Jack the Ripper |
I’m a human trigger warning, through the night until the morning |
When the light shines upon my crimes, you find it sick, appalling |
An infamous, notorious delinquent |
There’s little more gorier thing than living in Victorian England |
This is horrorcore, beware if you’re a common whore |
Or at late night you may find me knocking on your door |
Not keen to leave until I’m knee deep in blood and gore |
Your grieving family on their knees, weeping, scrubbing floors |
The police need a lead they dunno what they’re looking for |
My raps are like the way I eat my meat, bloody raw |
Jack, you’re a classic megalomaniac |
You haven’t mentioned me once in your entire battle rap |
Pity your verse wasn’t worth a trip in the jacket |
Quit jacking off on the track and put the lotion in the basket |
And catch what the iller serial killer can deliver |
Rhymes finer than the Chianti I would pair with your liver |
Cause the thought of your putrid flesh makes me want to shiver |
Your British body’s covered in more piss than kitty litter |
You stabbed women when they wouldn’t give you attention |
Like a Penny Dreadful version of OJ Simpson |
These days your nickname is all that’s even known |
And you didn’t even come up with that shit on your own |
I’m real! |
You’ll find me making vacancies in brothels |
While you only existed inside the pages of a novel |
You were kept for ages in a hovel |
Contained within a cage behind a locked door while I never got caught |
So who’s the superior serial killer, Dr Lecter? |
I’m still wanted, you’re forgotten, people these days are watching Dexter |
So God protect ya from the hell I spit upon us |
I’m terrorizing London, fuck the 7/7 bombers! |
No, no, Jack you were doing fine |
Before your ham-fisted attempt at a terrorist line |
How typical of Jack the Ripper to chase a headline |
Pick Ray Liotta’s brain and ask him how I get mine |
I’m the bon vivant of violence and a licensed psychiatrist |
Who dines on highest society to the sound of violins |
Don’t get me wrong, I’d roast both your balls on my Hibachi |
But for a serial killer you’re as tasteless as a bowl of Kashi |
You prey on a prostitute and play with her body |
I don’t mind that you’re naughty Jack, I hate that you’re sloppy |
Barney, take me back to solitary confinement |
Cause this dirty little lamb has just been silenced |