Lyrics What Goes Up - Foreign Beggars

What Goes Up

You’ll get ostracized from the environment
Quicker than picket line crossing firemen
When picking fights with Ben
I feel strength like Heineken
I’m wilder than a hyperactive minor swinging frying pans
When curtains rise and I commence
I’ve got rappers hiding under caps like spermicides in diaphragms
I’m so hype with many eyes attempt to view
Began the night by swigging vials of liquid nitrogen
To see me you’ll have to raise your game a bit
I fucked your mind so much I learned which way’s it’s favourite
Plus when I diss you I’ll make sure you stay ashamed of it
I’ll staple your anus lips and tape you parading it
Think taxes, white face means rap ain’t my taste
You fags are lightweight, like packs of rice cakes
I attack the masses like a savage primate
Causing panic from the damage with my rapid fire rate
What goes up must come down
Gravity won’t save you now
Behold the basic premise of the sound that’s in your ear is
Take you from the zenith right down to the nadir
You see me?
People call me the tangled analyst
The arrogant rap bastard, spitting acid raps at pacifists
Jagged fists, swing, bringing a man to meet his maker and
Hate to stand still I feel to spit the and take a grand
Make a man simmer, listen good
I’m in to win it and then I’m looking to play the field
I’m running a mile while you’re still up in detention
Your lacking direction like a broken bus
Your rhymes are so old you’re leaving the cypher coated in vocal dust
You hopeless fucks need to hold your mouth and beg your pardon
Fuck Bin Laden man I started bombing tracks in kindergarten
So pick a card if you think you’re hard enough
Your arse smells harsher than the nasty buff that called your father’s bluff
Seemingly bored mind torn thoughts conflicting
Art like a sport force rappers spitting quick tings to hold the tongues
I spit with swollen lung capacity
Holding one mic I mold your life like it was plasticine
I dip into raps
Like piss-heads eating chicken kebabs
Or death-wishing junkies sniffing up scag
Open up like a fist in a batch
I was missing in action
Now I’m back to fill in the facts
Ripping up tracks like timesheets
Like when your supervisor finds you sciving
Lighting a pipe when you’re required for driving
High as a kite like a microlite on the skyline
Your pride is denied of a fight and
It was time and I’ve had a skinful
Cos even with my plan
I’m still rapping skilful
Attack on impulse like cats to little
Rats and squirrels
I leave you twats as cripples
Like your backs were brittle and hammers hit you
It now stands official
Local town councillors fear this anarchist’s rule
They know my mayhem is taking it’s toll
I’m not restrained by the planet’s gravitational pull