Lyrics Body Bag - Jehst, Jetsun

Body Bag

This society is strictly savage
Fuck it — I’m living lavish
We ain’t on the same page
You don’t even speak the language
Ayo Jetsun — these beats is bangin'
This man has clearly
Studied Pythagoras theorem
Until he’s seen the pattern
I speak in riddles
Like The Mad Hatter
It’s Armageddon
When the God got the blues
Dr Manhattan
I don’t know what your man’s chattin'
Probably crap
Sleeping on the camp
You’ll get zipped up in a body bag
Somewhere deep in the woodlands
Don’t forget your manners
When you’re speaking to hoodlums
These endangered species is shooken
It’s not the ingredients
It’s the way that we cook ‘em
That’s why they book him
For performance — right?
Thought he saw the light
It’s getting shorter like an autumn night
Told the Holy Ghost to hold the line
It’s just an awkward time
Sign the paperwork
Soon as the payment terms are authorised
It’s the money faucet String!
He sounded so natural
He didn’t force a thing
Bringing out the big guns
C’est la vie!
Let it ring
Now we getting Paid in Full
Eric B & Rakim
B-Boy royalty
I’m the King of this
Undisputed heavyweight champ
The killer lyricist
Fuck an NZT pillin'
My skill is Limitless
Break the glass
Satellite images
Where my ceiling is
Man’s an original
Like an indigenous Aboriginal
Rappin' I’m at my pinnacle
Strappin' the most medicinal
Billin' the Critical Kush
De La Soul
How I Stick (in)abush
Romani
Call the homie my mush
Felonious crooks
Who wrote the G-code
In the holiest books
Look!
I don’t know what your man’s chattin'?
Probably crap
Sleeping on the camp
You’ll get zipped up in a body bag
Drinks at the bar
Rum shots making me body pop
Who do you think you are?
Gunshots ‘ll make your body drop
Comp are getting molly-whopped
Rappers changing their names
‘Cos they were lying
Like Doggy Dogg
You think you fuckin' with me?
Probably not
Billy Brimstone
I spit the molten rock
Solar hot
Like a stolen Glock
With some bodies on it
Jetsun — calculate the data
With the pocket rocket
These wally’s smaller than a Polly Pocket
There’s a new plug
Find a way to adapt
Like a foreign socket
Don’t make me Molotov it
Off topic
Unidentified Flying Object
I got off quick
You got burned
Like a joss stick
When the joint’s lit
Old school
Control the game
Holding my joystick
You’ve been cordially invited
By Royal appointment
To a lifetime of unjustified boyment
You’re duck soup
I’m the pot boiler
You’re ‘bout to see the end
Sooner than you want
Like a plot spoiler
The top dog Rottweiler
Your plot foiled
Top Boy I’ll leave you
Under six feet of top soil
Beastie Boy
It’s the Grand Royal
Hard Boiled
In the brickwork
Stone face like a gargoyle
The gargantuan
Consider me The People’s Champion
Skeleton made out of adamantium
Old dude, new wave
Like Adam Ant and them
High Plains Anthem
YNR’s the acronym
I don’t know what your man’s chattin'?
Probably crap
Sleeping on the camp
You’ll get zipped up in a… (body bag)
I don’t know what your man’s chattin'?
Probably crap
Sleeping on the camp
You’ll get zipped up in a… (body bag)
I don’t know what your man’s chattin'?
Probably crap
Sleeping on the camp
You’ll get zipped up in a—