Devlin, Dogzilla - Practice Hours (Freestyle) lyrics
[Devlin, Dogzilla - Practice Hours Freestyle lyrics]
Yeah it’s Devlin, OT, Devs, Dogzilla
It’s real, Practice Hours, OutTake everyone
S'all real, OutTake the OT fan, mazy
Yeah, yeah, yeah
It’s OT on top and OutTaking whatever
You got and whatever you’re not
And nah, I don’t care if you’re heavy or not
And I’ll be merking your gang
If you’re ready or not
Yeah, it’s OT, our town and our time
Fuck these mic men cos now it’s our grind
And what you know about the pain in our life
Rude boy
What you know about the strength to survive
And when I come through it's eye for an eye
And if you think that I’m black
Then you’re wrong cos I’m white
Prowl like a fox in the night, OT
We’ve got our cocks in your wife
Come through ready to box up with a knife
You don’t need to see Glamour
And Shotz taking your life
And Dogzilla kidnaps your wife
You don’t want OT to call strife
OT, we're backing, we're
Packing, no slacking, we're stacking
We're booting those hit's for your clique
OT, we're moving, improving, assuming that
You can bounce back on my shit
I’m clutching my gun and you’re stunning
You’re running
I thought you was a gun man in your bit's
We’re coming, we're coming, the best
Click click
Your first album constant track shit
Chittering, chattering, your shit will flop
Shattering, battering your content
I’m slaying them, spraying them
Devlin slaps them
Stacks them, packs them, puts shit on eBay
Eshay, you know I got the o-flay
Evs day, oths day, fo-ill ray, r-ill ray
It-shay, o nay, here comes the evs day
A ma-a day, a ma-a day
Spray like a magnum, the
World’s deadliest handgun
I’ve been around some
I’m the quiet type, I’m not a loud one
But when I throw blows Imma land one
And I spray like a MAC
Fast repeating I’m black
Brap, I’m automatic and that
I make your body movement erratic and that
I’m more ill than a asthmatic on crack
And I shoot like a shoty, I
Deliver bars to your body
Blud I’m not shoddy
My style's phat like blobby
I’ll leave your body curled up in a lobby
Believe that’s my hobby shoot like a TEC
And when you’re blazing your neck we're
Bunning hot bars to your neck
Shoot like a TEC
And when you’re blazing your neck we’re
Bunning hot bars to your neck
I’m the best so face it brother
I flow round the mic like no other
No other contests when I’m on the mic
Not even him or not even you
Since when was it cool to be a liar
Your mic flows are lies, a big nose
Your second name's Pinocchio
I’m Jepetto, the father, son I made ya
I’m gonna pass you lot to the majors
It’s been ages and now I’m ready
I'm a conqueror, microphone sorcerer
Uh uh uh, you won’t get better
You’re a pecker, ball bag sucker
I’m a fat fucker so I’ll eat ya
I will treat you like you’re a speng
Treat you like an outcast in the end
And don’t front me, you can’t do so
I don’t care if you box or do Judo
Cos I’ll swing the post to your torso
You’re not a gangster ready for the war, bro
You’re another fake little skeng man
You’ll be getting beat every
Time like hen man
You’re not gangster cos you shot the peng man
Sickest lyricist until the end man
Yeah, so don’t tell me about rhyming
I’m at the top of the hill
You’re still climbing
You’ll get punched off the bike you’re riding
And you deserve a fucking good hiding
And you're an idiot, you ain’t got a clue
Just what to do when the mics passed to you
So go Clark’s, you’ll need new shoes
As you’ve been getting battered and
Bruised on the move
Mic mentor, Dogz reservoir, killer combos
Styles galore
I write equations, I write metaphors
I got my dirty paws on this track
Filthy rhymes, rhymes are intact
For a war, on all combats
My flow flips those acrobats
No gun claps before it clicks, clap clap
Click click
We take the microphone and eat that shit
I’ll do a bellyflop on your lyrics
Dogzilla, I’m the warrest lyricist
I spit weapons of mass destruction
Giving your brain cells concussion
Dogzilla, I’m like combustion
I’m in the process of burning a mic
They’re sweating, like the Evans
And when I drop bars
Yeah the question beckons
Am I coming for the number one slot
Punk or will I come second
Of course I won’t
My style's lethal just like weapons
I know what I know
Don’t care what you reckon
I want more goal than David Beckham
My boys blaze zoots and beers
We neck them off so you can suck out
Cos I spit bars on the mic then I duck out
And if I’m in the place then get the fuck out
You come across me punk your luck’s out
Yeah, and I’m not just not giving up
Nah I don’t give a fuck
Yeah I’m gonna live it up
So bring your boys and I’ll hit them up
Now pass me the mic, let me rip it up
My mind is not my mind, my mind is way behind
My mind’s locked up, fucked up, into grime
Since the time my mind became a crime
I’ve been hanging around, sitting around
Wasting time, in the meantime writing rhymes
Things come in my mind like
Ask be life then fuck beeline
How the fuck can you call it, be real
Ask Danny weed the fuck I’m smoking
My mind’s not mine at the moment
It’s over there with Jack Nicholson like
One flew over the cuckoo’s nest
I’m a dolly, I’m a veg, I dribble on myself
I shit myself, please, I need help
That’s it, OT, Dogenham forever
Fuck with it, fuck with us, fuck you, merked
(Devs, Dogzi, OT, standard Dagenham)
Practice Hours, the biggest one
Don’t mess with that shit either
Cos it’s the biggest, Practice Hours is real
OT to the blood to the deathbed
It’s real, Practice Hours, OutTake everyone
S'all real, OutTake the OT fan, mazy
Yeah, yeah, yeah
It’s OT on top and OutTaking whatever
You got and whatever you’re not
And nah, I don’t care if you’re heavy or not
And I’ll be merking your gang
If you’re ready or not
Yeah, it’s OT, our town and our time
Fuck these mic men cos now it’s our grind
And what you know about the pain in our life
Rude boy
What you know about the strength to survive
And when I come through it's eye for an eye
And if you think that I’m black
Then you’re wrong cos I’m white
Prowl like a fox in the night, OT
We’ve got our cocks in your wife
Come through ready to box up with a knife
You don’t need to see Glamour
And Shotz taking your life
And Dogzilla kidnaps your wife
You don’t want OT to call strife
OT, we're backing, we're
Packing, no slacking, we're stacking
We're booting those hit's for your clique
OT, we're moving, improving, assuming that
You can bounce back on my shit
I’m clutching my gun and you’re stunning
You’re running
I thought you was a gun man in your bit's
We’re coming, we're coming, the best
Click click
Your first album constant track shit
Chittering, chattering, your shit will flop
Shattering, battering your content
I’m slaying them, spraying them
Devlin slaps them
Stacks them, packs them, puts shit on eBay
Eshay, you know I got the o-flay
Evs day, oths day, fo-ill ray, r-ill ray
It-shay, o nay, here comes the evs day
A ma-a day, a ma-a day
Spray like a magnum, the
World’s deadliest handgun
I’ve been around some
I’m the quiet type, I’m not a loud one
But when I throw blows Imma land one
And I spray like a MAC
Fast repeating I’m black
Brap, I’m automatic and that
I make your body movement erratic and that
I’m more ill than a asthmatic on crack
And I shoot like a shoty, I
Deliver bars to your body
Blud I’m not shoddy
My style's phat like blobby
I’ll leave your body curled up in a lobby
Believe that’s my hobby shoot like a TEC
And when you’re blazing your neck we're
Bunning hot bars to your neck
Shoot like a TEC
And when you’re blazing your neck we’re
Bunning hot bars to your neck
I’m the best so face it brother
I flow round the mic like no other
No other contests when I’m on the mic
Not even him or not even you
Since when was it cool to be a liar
Your mic flows are lies, a big nose
Your second name's Pinocchio
I’m Jepetto, the father, son I made ya
I’m gonna pass you lot to the majors
It’s been ages and now I’m ready
I'm a conqueror, microphone sorcerer
Uh uh uh, you won’t get better
You’re a pecker, ball bag sucker
I’m a fat fucker so I’ll eat ya
I will treat you like you’re a speng
Treat you like an outcast in the end
And don’t front me, you can’t do so
I don’t care if you box or do Judo
Cos I’ll swing the post to your torso
You’re not a gangster ready for the war, bro
You’re another fake little skeng man
You’ll be getting beat every
Time like hen man
You’re not gangster cos you shot the peng man
Sickest lyricist until the end man
Yeah, so don’t tell me about rhyming
I’m at the top of the hill
You’re still climbing
You’ll get punched off the bike you’re riding
And you deserve a fucking good hiding
And you're an idiot, you ain’t got a clue
Just what to do when the mics passed to you
So go Clark’s, you’ll need new shoes
As you’ve been getting battered and
Bruised on the move
Mic mentor, Dogz reservoir, killer combos
Styles galore
I write equations, I write metaphors
I got my dirty paws on this track
Filthy rhymes, rhymes are intact
For a war, on all combats
My flow flips those acrobats
No gun claps before it clicks, clap clap
Click click
We take the microphone and eat that shit
I’ll do a bellyflop on your lyrics
Dogzilla, I’m the warrest lyricist
I spit weapons of mass destruction
Giving your brain cells concussion
Dogzilla, I’m like combustion
I’m in the process of burning a mic
They’re sweating, like the Evans
And when I drop bars
Yeah the question beckons
Am I coming for the number one slot
Punk or will I come second
Of course I won’t
My style's lethal just like weapons
I know what I know
Don’t care what you reckon
I want more goal than David Beckham
My boys blaze zoots and beers
We neck them off so you can suck out
Cos I spit bars on the mic then I duck out
And if I’m in the place then get the fuck out
You come across me punk your luck’s out
Yeah, and I’m not just not giving up
Nah I don’t give a fuck
Yeah I’m gonna live it up
So bring your boys and I’ll hit them up
Now pass me the mic, let me rip it up
My mind is not my mind, my mind is way behind
My mind’s locked up, fucked up, into grime
Since the time my mind became a crime
I’ve been hanging around, sitting around
Wasting time, in the meantime writing rhymes
Things come in my mind like
Ask be life then fuck beeline
How the fuck can you call it, be real
Ask Danny weed the fuck I’m smoking
My mind’s not mine at the moment
It’s over there with Jack Nicholson like
One flew over the cuckoo’s nest
I’m a dolly, I’m a veg, I dribble on myself
I shit myself, please, I need help
That’s it, OT, Dogenham forever
Fuck with it, fuck with us, fuck you, merked
(Devs, Dogzi, OT, standard Dagenham)
Practice Hours, the biggest one
Don’t mess with that shit either
Cos it’s the biggest, Practice Hours is real
OT to the blood to the deathbed