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lyrics
Like a square peg in a round hole, takes guts to undercut the crowd though,
flip the mattress on a cool cat actress just to practice the art of saying "NO!"
You can complicate it all, or know the aim's to fucking push it on,
or looking like at least you wanna fucking flip a song,
instead of nicking from the biggest ripping off the fittest,
but always slipping on whatever next you're sticking on...
I see you sonny - so to win it I'm in it I'll run a ring around your fucking track and bring it back under the tongue,
packing lyrics - talking shit in hysterics you're dead un-necessary and worth like 2% of the buried,
the ferryman got the coin for your eyes lie as you might wanna die,
rhyming you might wanna try, even if simplified!
Suppose that makes me a cynic? Just know, to snatch away your bollocks'll take me less than a minute...
I don't get it? I support many!
And many men have said they're "born ready!" x2
It's production by numbers - full of numb-skulls in abundance
then you wonder why we passed it and undermine the bastards?
It's dog shit - the cost of which delivers terror
it's all that bleeding ears hear - a catalogue of errors
In times of war when the old closing door's open only for the poor
looking to know how much they've never had before -
we need something to unite us! Ignite the fighters!
And fuck off all these rappers repping dickhead-itis
so it's up on my damn feet - where there's always a plan b
walking calm in a storm that I've been warned I can't beat
and alone I can't sleep when there's only my seat at sea
shrinking like a sailors fate - sinking to a symphony
Like a square peg in a round hole, takes guts to undercut the crowd though,
flip the mattress on a cool cat actress just to practice the art of saying "NO!"
You can complicate it all, or know the aim's to fucking push it on,
or looking like at least you wanna fucking flip a song,
instead of nicking from the biggest ripping off the fittest,
but always slipping on whatever next you're sticking on...
It's like a ceremony of "fame and money" hungry men
marching to a rhythm they've diluted through a Parker pen
again, it's getting darker, then the argy-bargy started
and if a target's on my head, then you need to know exactly what I said - "I don't freestyle or battle rhyme" - no punchlines either
and this ain't for dick size or the tricks I can use to hide the fact of interaction, I don't do it for glory - I do it for the peace of mind I get from burning stories that would always haunt me,
in a flat in Preston, some fucking mad depression pressing buttons when I'd nothing - started asking questions like 'what the fuck?' and 'why'm I here?' Toasting ghosts that would appear - I kinda feel I overdosed on fear, hence some common sense in my defence I need summat for stomach cramping, await the rapture - so I'd capture it - and started stamping, to clear brainwaves with an Atom bomb
is better than the staircase and the rope I won't be hanging from...
