Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Gourmet Flesh, artist - Jam Baxter. Album song The Gruesome Features, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 08.07.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: High Focus
Song language: English
Gourmet Flesh |
One thousand banshees in armoured Jeeps screaming |
Couldn’t wake me up from this dreamin' to weave him |
With these bleak evenings between these barriers |
Fleeing the Jeep chariots, we the disease carriers |
Cassius Clay when we box beats like brothel whores |
Tomahawk missiles spray gristle slang commodore |
What a war son, one rotten forked tongue |
Done a rocket, all lies suck it, got 'em all spun |
Still blinding, the stock high hybrid |
The sea of rhyme psychic minds in tight vices |
The sky high mileage, the well travelled brain stems |
Days unparalleled, gold lips spray gems |
All over some crystal, the alternate minstrel |
Clutching at sun beams and gold in a fistful |
The ultimate ritual, the gully side of normal |
I’d rather be a corpse than a rully eyed immortal |
Yeah, yeah it’s all good I guess it all makes sense now |
Man’s yammin' on some gourmet flesh now |
And once wondrous all play dead now |
They’re tryna tell me that it’s all in my head now |
Yeah, I guess it all seems perfect |
And if you let 'em treat you like a chief you deserve it |
One blitz brer freezing in a furnace |
One kid scared bleeding in a skirmish |
As I bring it back, with maximum impact when I interact |
Flipping like a brass aristocrat when the symbols crash |
Dashing funny types with the iron monkey stripes |
Rhyme fakers vapourize five hundred at a time |
Trying to fight this mega-gator |
Bussing out the incubator, all hail the devastator |
Headless raider, known to the grader, rep of a stranger |
Heavy blazer set to escape the mystical manger |
Bunches of cut throats, thugs own the drug zones and peace and love is unknown |
With a lust to bust chrome |
Rough folks with tough tones bunning down Marleys |
That cost loads saying fuck those fucking federalis |
My art is basic as Lego and meccano |
Holding arms in guitar cases like the Desperados |
Calve the back of a rappers neck, we set the bar cold |
A heavy cargo full of arseholes, check the news flash |
Do the blinding true facts when I tear these group acts a new gash like giant |
zoo cats |
And who’s that cooking up the roast eggs |
Fumigating known stench, putrid, rank and grotesque |
Death becomes her in a text of one word |
And any drunk scum who drinks the blood becomes turned |
Badbonez and Jam Baxter dashing blue cracks of wraps |
Slackers like a boomerang that’s coming back atcha! |
Yeah, yeah it’s all good I guess it all makes sense now |
Mans yamming on some gourmet flesh now |
The once wondrous all play dead now |
They’re pranging out because the war paints fresh now |
Yeah, I guess it all seems perfect |
And if you let 'em treat you like a chief you deserve it |
One blitz brer freezing in a furnace |
One kid scared bleeding in a skirmish |
Yeah sit there, blitz brer chilling on the blocks of ice |
Dropping like cluster bombs, Summers off sorry guys |
Check back next year, the kids wet red tears |
Pneumatic drills to their dreams through the left ear |
Gets weird, treading crushed armour in this stale hell |
The age old tail of the trainer and the snail shell |
Spring the brain from its jail cell |
I guess they’re all good cause all’s well that fails well |
Right stick and move, police he figured too |
A diagram depicting a kid caught in a pincer move |
Pick a new path and find they all lead to the same place |
A war scene, not for the small screen and it ain’t safe |
Born leading the space race, the rocket tears forgot to steer |
And burst into blistering bits burning, what career? |
So watch me commandeer every rotting year and yam 'em all |
Your lack of passion called, it said watch out for the cannon balls |
It said watch out for the cannon balls |
Yeah |