One

I will never jack my style off of yesterday's man

Separate jams from your second rate fam
When the renegade strands are forever laid crammed
In the polythene pockets of a cellophane land
Where the peasants stay prang
Redefine your enemy

Stay hard headed like an Easter Island effigy
Staring out to sea beside a steaming pile of weaponry
I feed the flies with a heap of primal energy
You're paedophiles essentially
Obsessed with these fucking minors
Drenched in a ton of dryness
It's fucking priceless
See I've never been a fame thirsty son of Midas

Just one of them straight dirty butters rhymers
I turn them skywards
The air's thick with their shit

And it ain't even fair when my breh's spit
So bare this
For any speaker that can stand the pain
Naif sets the track alight and I just fan the flame

Flame fan a J back off

See I've learnt from my family that sanity's a fickle trickster
So never bank on the galaxy to shrink to fit ya
Take a snapshot of apathy and print the picture
Pin it to this damp soggy tapestry of brick and timber
This bitter world can sit and swirl on my middle finger

Like a spinning pearl in the grip of winter
Mister mister

Why'd you spit like a single drip of
British piss clinging to a river's sphincter
Excuse the image
I spat it in the name of truth

Brutal lyrics
Hacking at your tapered roots
I play the sabre-toothed stranger in a lake of juice
Raise the roof got the place shaking like a traitor's boots
I've been making moves since we used to run with Underlight
Dactis the smack fish the gruesome one that loved to write
Up at night perfecting the devil's craft
Penning bars getting higher than my levels are

I wonder what them dry brehs been doing lately
They've disappeared like the nightmares that used to plague me
I heard all you knew was music and it's super samey
So I threw it in a juicer with a human baby
And you thought you were crazy
Man's sick of rhyming

Yeah bri bri bri guiding for night
I span this horizon
Hand picked to ripen
And now I'm sitting by this riverside missing Brighton
I bring a titan (what'd you call him?)
Made of scrap metal
His scatty hands wrestled facts from collapsed rebels
Cramped in a damp vessel
And when the sand settles
Dash a back chat your fraff you ain't that special

And neither am I
Just weaving the spines of evil into creatures that fly
The fleet of the blind
Feasting on a dream and a dry crumb

I'm out

One