| I observe life through my third eye when I burn thai
|
| Get the verse tight like a virgin the first time
|
| Fisher price my first mic, love at first sight
|
| Walking a dark path, armed with a searchlight
|
| Merking the circuit I certainly earnt my
|
| Stripes as a general, punishing the workshy
|
| Surfing the new wave watch how I turn tides
|
| Putting out hells flame moving the earth like G-O-D hitting the skins
|
| I talk low in the confession box, admitting committing the sin
|
| Commission aborted shit I got gotham on lock
|
| Trotter boys out the carboot shotting some stock
|
| «Blud have you got a spare zoot?» |
| bother me not
|
| This is fine art dude a Hieronymus Bosch
|
| These MC’s is leftovers I polish em off
|
| No apologies my policy’s abolish the lot
|
| You’re still waiting for a bollock to drop
|
| My hip hop’s top of the pops, lighting up a crop of the pot
|
| Got 'em reaching in their pockets for paper
|
| I’m just cotching plotting the caper
|
| Money now, apocalypse later |