 You're fat, your daughter's fat, she has her father's figure. Have you ever been to a dentist? You're mouth screaming, heck no. But tell me, women read smiles, and the cops in your teeth spell out friendzone. Boys from Washington Heights put them on the front of the Washington Times when they give UK's, hit you with that shoulder blade tap. Like in the UK, when you get that shoulder blade tap translation, that means you'll have to call it a night. Now you're colder than ISIS. Brothers stand up back our way, because they've got two eyes you can't use and two s's you can't say. But he's talking about Muslims in my town and that's harsh. And I'm religious with his shit, so I can't allow a whack bar. You got engaged for like the third time. So I don't know who's got more x's, you or your t-shirt size. Everything you cooked is on a George Foreman. Everything you wear is George for men. That was left to rot in the sun. Horrible bitch probably lived in more squats than she's done. Oh ho is a two, my dame is a nine, but I still gave her this free willy and she had a whale of a time. 2013, you have no fans, and for some reason they let you go out to King of the Dot, except you have to front your own flights at a ridiculous cost. And then you get there and you hear something that pierces you off. Pedro, what day of the event did you think you were on? Cos I heard it through the grapevine, you thought you'd be with the main guys. Day one straight up phase, like up four ground zeroes, a place where planes fly, going up to King Fly, like eight night on after daylight. He's like, who are you? You're like Pedro. He's like, oh Pedro, yeah, you're on page nine. Day five. Oh, safe, right. I love the idea that for some reason you still bloody expected more. Like, hmm, maybe the reason I'm not on the fly is that they want to surprise the fans because they must just respect me more. It's like you knew you were a ball boy at Wimbledon, but still turned up in your tennis shorts, expecting them to be like, yeah, change your plan, mate. You're playing Mario instead. Fuck that bullshit. I'm in a different zone. You've been rocking skinny jeans since skinny jeans are called women's clothes. In the days you had a blotted waist, but you can run, swim, jumps, get row and train on row for days, throw your weights above your shoulder blades until you're old and gray. You're still like a fat and stumpy, sad and grumpy overweight, pull over faith, but I don't want to shave you over faith. I want to wave. I feel our money because we deep in discussion. You've got some brass thinking he would when you're getting beat like a cuss. Classical schemes, classical schemes by the dozen, but it ain't just the sound cool. It's because how you conduct yourself was instrumental in orchestrating your downfall. She wears socks on her hands like Mick Foley. Her nickname up in prison is Big Tuck Pokey. Years ago, we were doing a gig around the corner at Django's Rift. It was one of Max Nice that was scratching space. Calcium says, oh, two bags of weed and a massive split, right? We're having a great time. We're outside smoking, joking, having a Latin shit. Then down the road in the distance, we spot the pigs, right? Sniffer dog in tow. So Calcium cleverly dropped the split. The only problem is, he's been smoking and he's got two bags in his pockets and he proper stink. So I'm thinking what you're all thinking. So Calcium proper quit. That's what we all do, innit? Block this place. He walked over to the busy and said, officer, that dog is sick. He is nothing but shot without you. A bitch should be ignored. He dresses up to connotation. What makes him different than a whore? He is the best at nothing. With no signs of improving. He is not the best winner. He is not the best loser. He is not the best rapper. He is immediately mediocre and just hunting for views. And it's only even exceptional. And one thing he do, he's the best at being an attention whore and having a shitty attitude. But then again, I guess the Kardashian family is better at all that than you. He acts out because of his frustration and his inability to communicate. Like a child who wants a bib, a bottle, or a diaper change. He is a kid throwing a tantrum. That's the style that he's picking. So he's fine. Just ignore him. See, this is when the lies stop. It's the part of that night y'all get that pine box. Y'all talking beef to niggas, view you as livestock. This battle rap shit is a web and y'all got that fly swat. You gotta come through swinging that ratchet. It ain't a fly swat. What else? See, kaleidoscope vision. I can see up to nine blocks. What else? It's a hundred-ground drum. I can wake up for eight seconds to get my point across holly. It got a time clock. See, we had to do all that for these bitches. So I can see up to nine... But when the brainstorm a wage war But the same forces overcame Sang it so make sure you're coast clear Cos soon I'll me's or leave USA's Lying in a state ravaged dinner State ravaged with great damage Wings splashing, gales blasting and waves crashing Boats sinking and planes smashing You can try your weapon to storm Shit, there ain't no safe passage True late passage, you fucked Look, you can try to escape Manic But you won't see this bitch prevail Like an arranged marriage Shit smoky, hookahit, a Rubik shit When you see this MC hammer, that mean my tulip shit Move it, I'm shooting shit If you cross me lord, it them cougar shit They trying to take a young nigga out Or some cougar shit, casking But any nigga think he getting sick Well, that's something that'll suit a fixed way Getting sick, well, that's something that'll suit a hard shit Who talking? Ripping the tulip off from headshot Before he drop, ripping the juice off from stomachshot Headshot, niggas is moonwalking But as a young guy, the lesson growing up Was in pleasant, sick as mother They dismothering with love and affection They have no money for groves Or the scruffy coat Ended up with that malnourished complexion Stomach rumble in his hunger But sat in a go for his lunch For some other motherfucker That ain't always stuck in detention They're getting bububububububobolied In lessons hiding under the desk What he would chuck in the pants Or punch in his head Every day he was getting flushed In a jet's tie, pulled and impressed Ruffed up a threat and never stood up for himself Cos everyone had rejected him So an artist pulled to progression He tried to roam with a weapon But still couldn't get any friends So he suffered depression I could talk about that Or the pussy you're getting You think a woman would let him touch you? Forget it, you have to jump on a jet To meet up with your skater Who's getting pulled more than six I've hundreds of Frenchmen Or I could talk about the fact That your country's dependent My lust to protect him Or I could just say You're a muppet that juked on the net To study the best restructure The sentences and chuck in the breath And to pass it off as your own stuff It's pathetic but fuck's all Back at chocolate biscuits for starters Went back, watched the fifth birthday Clips of disaster Went out to the country to visit a farmer Just so I could take ticks from Islamas I started smoking About about 50 cigars You can feel that phlegm Visibly mixing with tar Gloss of red wine And a bit of licorice After all in an effort of spitting it dark Cause I am spitting it darker Then crushed bandicoot Lights out getting hit at the start I need an next checkpoint To be given a mask But you can't really see So it's pretty damn hard You just end up jumping And spinning regardless I am spitting it darker Then simmer on the cliff As he listens to Scarra About killing his father And thinking that he'll never be forgiven By Nala The pigment side watching As Jane begins to die Barely blinking right Because by now he's a bit of a bastard I am spitting it darker Then whatever's embedded in venom Whenever he's clinging to Parker Now I'm spitting it darker Than I might have seen with the bit in the Parker Look deep into the Parker I'll be honest I've got a few more so you may as well join in I am As in the pit of the heart of Anakin As he turns to a sit in the lava I am Triggering blast of singing guitarist In the Voboski sitting with Satan Let me show them grime Got my mind done over time I'm cold as ice Look like an ocean tide Holding mics till I blow light Loads of minds overnight I went from a londie guy To make a jump to the game like Obi-Brain He's the guy who's gonna say That I'm over-height I've been looking for the T-Fly Obi-Trize I chose this life It's more than catching bulls I can't even lost all of my passion I want food cause I'm bored of the rations A bull 50 I'll give a chorus And that's it Book a clash bitch Come with a rat chick Chat shit Get capped like a bad kid I've done bad shit But I'm not a bastard My friends will be caught in a madness The game feels overly stagnant And yeah I'm up north with a mandem I can't help but talk with that accent I said it's owl joke time It's ironic you need a head wig When you look like Harry Potter And his owl combines You have irritable owl syndrome You're conceived in Alcatraz It's the love child of the bird man in Al Capone See I was gonna leave this owl alone But this is where it gets big for you I hear he likes to chat out birds on Twitter Matta likes to tweet to Wu Looks like a turtle bruv Your barns type whack And women are not mice There's something that you can't quite catch