Lyrics
Instinct gives Rashaun a lesson with a USB playstion Mic…
urm… I write with progression and the wordplay is ripe! Check it out!
I kick in ya shins till you can barely walk
You poke more holes than a pair of forks
And I’m fairly bored of ya fairy talk,
you got more flaws than canary wharf!
With no brain cells left, when will you learn right?
Ya so dumb ya walk back and forth between U-turn signs
Ra’shaun you don’t stand a chance mate,
My speech is class A, feel it make ya heart race!
You need to clean up ya shit like soap in ass
Yeah Cos you’re more outta touch than a broken hand
Quit playing with ya dick like a bloke with crabs
You’ve won about as many times as the popes smoked crack
Even people on the net, they think ya raps are crap,
You couldn’t even get interest from the cash in ya bank
Im so hot, I’m making ash like a drag on a fag
I’m ahead, you’re left hurt behind like ya stabbed in the back,
Im ripping tracks for my people, like a passenger tram,
Containing his weak beef: it is written like spam in a can,
After the match this rappers crying like the mans in a pram
And damn his stank dicks smaller than the span of his hand,
After my attack man you’ll pass to purgatory
Or at least you’ll be a spastic certainly needing plastic surgery
Back to takin ya classes in nursery, emergency,
you can’t speak, Let alone refer to me…
ya raps aint marking me, and man I’m bored of youre rhymes
my lines are phatter than digi or piggy from lord of the flies,
I’m so magic I taught Jesus how to turn water to wine,
I leave you more terminally sick than before boarding a flight
Keep dreaming, I put you to sleep its ya bedtime,
I can’t be stopped, no not even with a red light
You used to wed guys, but now a zoophile, you buy a pet wife
Cos you really want a wild sex life
You wanna fend my strength? You need a hard defence,
But Shaun, he can’t offend, he’s thicker than a marker pen,
You couldn’t keep a rhythm even with a given metronome
I’ll make ya death slow, so go make ya bed a home,
with half messy flows and retarded petty prose
I hear more shit than a southpark episode
I aint rough, naa but I’m more raw than sushi though,
You’re getting flicked off more than players on your subbutio
Even a blocked sink beats you when it comes to flow
Couldn’t be in a revolution if you become a spoke
You couldn’t find a triumph even in a bike shop,
You couildn’t be in time as the hand on a nice watch
You don’t get birds but I heard ya riding a cock,
You reside in a box, you wanna get hot? Try lighting ya socks!
Ya like a retard tappin ya heart and biting ya spots,
And getin ripped more times than stoners rip the inside of the top
of a cigarette box. Ya dead cos ya mundane,
And you ride more ass than Jesus did on Sunday!
You should Sort ya shit out, you shouldn’t cipher this way,
You wouldn’t stand a chance if you were asked to put a dice on display
And with ya life that remains, I bet shaun does think,
“Oh shit, im in more of a pickle than an onion is.”
Its fun to diss, but your flakier than cereal
and like a bogg roll, you’re just full of shit material,
you can’t thrill for shit, I’d prefer to hear a milkman spit,
I’m more in your face than a billboard is,
I’d kill to feel paris hilton’s tits,
Bitch, that’s the same way you feel about children’s dicks.
