Amp this is crazy!
Yeah thats what, thats what I mean man like,
Man are from the same place but they ain’t from the ill side of town
So, like them man can just stand like they’re repping the ends
But boy we all know the truth like
They’re going overboard like…….
F**k a sailor, CD on sale without a mast
One man show he don’t even need a cast,
But still able to put your body in a cast
He does it physically not with a spell that he casts
He does it whether your full or half-caste
Cos most of these rappers these days is half-assed
You can see me when you see me or can see me with the semi attached
Hopping in to your semi detached,
And its the the real ting fam not a fake one silly
There’s only one of you but your nine milli vanilli
Which means you an imposter,
You don’t have to say a word I can assess you wear a dress by your posture
Lyrics are deft defying as well as self gratifying
I straighten n****s out when I’m applying the iron,
So thats full steam ahead with a little bit of spray
And you know where I rep all day
What more should I say?……..yeah.
Them man don’t even know the ill side of town
They don’t even know about nothing man
They all f*****g playing in videos like they do
And they f*****g don’t.
To capture the rapture to fracture the rapture they snapped ya
Inebriated with your jewels alleviated, and they can’t believe he ate it
How’s he washing down his meal?
With oasis off the shelf on another level still!
The lyrical skill is sexual pleasing
He won’t wash his willy so he’s easing the cheese in
And she’s on her knees and outside is freezing,
But he’s still rock hard distributing rock hard,
It’s embarrassing harassing him for clashing then
They only wanna verbalise he’ll end up mashing them,
They won’t get the lyrics its embarrassing
Like “5,9” my competition pale in comparison,
Put the beat on i’ll do my thing to it
Me and rap’s is a marriage what I say has a ring to it,
A lyrical imprint now that never fades
I got this forever… like aids,
What more can I say……yeah.
Boy i’d like to say I’m back and all that s**t
But thats some bogus cliche’d s**t man
You n****s done know like.
See cos I’m a beast that’s about to have a feast
That’s word to my niece my rhymes ain’t phat they’re obese,
You might have trouble trying to work them out
You see they’re lazy as well as f*****g crazy,
My spontaneity will destroy all your gaiety
See I’m the party pooper that appears with the shooter,
See I’m black and I will screw the black Victor Meldrew
Leaving bodies with mildew I don’t spit I do spew.