| I never stutter, lie or mutter
|
| This my bread and butter
|
| Beats straight gutter
|
| Like the lungs on a paint huffer
|
| Fuck the coppers, I never wanna get clocked
|
| Like fake dollars
|
| Need a fishing hat, Shades and acres of forest
|
| So I can get away with burying their office
|
| Maybe I might jack a uniform, go out as Sergeant Chronic
|
| And go around
|
| Give the drugs back they’ve stolen from us
|
| Roll to the Queens, knick her jewels and start playing conkers
|
| I rap for opposite of sheeple man
|
| I pay you homage
|
| Fuck the time and the clock and what’s on it
|
| My hands move faster
|
| As I spit bars, they’re metal objects
|
| The way your cranium gets shattered when I spray it onwards
|
| Unlike the girls with their fake tans spraying orange
|
| My bars resonate with nature cause I made them from it
|
| Sound waves painting pictures out of sacred knowledge
|
| I stay awake when I dream
|
| You know my state is conscious
|
| Unlike the guy laying in the alley in his vomit
|
| I’m ballied up in my bedroom hanging like my bollocks
|
| I shake the ground
|
| Like the shock waves
|
| Reverberating octaves
|
| Top of the stage
|
| Is where my gob’s placed
|
| This is for the people who are growing Mary Jane
|
| This for the people who are clinically insane
|
| This is for the people living life how they want to
|
| Never cared to aid the system, run against the grain
|
| Yo I’m running down the third rail again when the train’s coming
|
| Done this before, nuff onlookers said nothing
|
| Lucky I’m alive now sonny, I was mad buzzing
|
| High up in the sky, like the buzzard when it’s puffing
|
| See I cold crush percussion
|
| Getting stuck in like its curry mutton
|
| No discussion son
|
| You know it’s pucker when I bust the oven
|
| Favourite way around London’s
|
| Flash a bus and pay them nothing
|
| Tripping off my face
|
| Like I just ate eight magic mushrooms
|
| Playing dot to dot with microscopic microdots
|
| You might have lost your mind
|
| A couple nights ago
|
| If you find it bruv
|
| I couldn’t really care less
|
| Maybe that’s what kaya does
|
| I put it on your screen like I transcribed and typed it up
|
| Hands tied I still dig the diamonds right out the rough
|
| Dripping blood like
|
| My eyes concussed from the finest bud
|
| Turn the sound gold
|
| Like each line got the Midas touch
|
| Sites I set are high And mountainous
|
| The piff flies me up
|
| Focused I align the times
|
| I’ve tried in the past but fucked up
|
| It’s a minor bruv
|
| Smiling through it like the guilty human
|
| In a line up
|
| Who am I?
|
| Not one to judge
|
| I am you
|
| Just in a different place
|
| And time, trust
|
| This is for the people who are growing Mary Jane
|
| This for the people who are clinically insane
|
| This is for the people living life how they want to
|
| Never cared to aid the system, run against the grain |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Against the Grain , by - Fliptrix. Song from the album The Road to the Interdimensional Piff Highway, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп