Jam Baxter, DJ Sugai - One lyrics

Yo, yeah

I will never jack my style
Off of yesterdays man (nah)
Separate jams from your second rate fam
When the renegade strands are
Forever laid crammed (where?)
In the polythene pockets of a cellophane land

Where the peasants stay prang
(then what?) , redefine your enemy (yeah)
Stay hard headed like a Easter island effigy
Staring out to sea beside a
Steaming pile of weaponry (weaponry)
I feed the flies with a heap of primal energy
You're paedophiles essentially
(erugh) obsessed with these
Fucking minors (what?)
Drenched in a ton of dryness
(what?) , it's fucking priceless (yeah)
See I've never been a fame
Thirsty son of Midas (never)
Just one of them straight
Dirty butters rhymers

I tunnel skywards
The airs thick with their shit (yeah)
And it ain't even fair when my brehs spit
So blare this (yeah) from any speaker that
Can stand the pain
Naive sets the track alight and
I just fan the flames

(yeah, yeah flame fanner Jay Backer)

Listen yeah, yeah

See I've learnt from my family
That sanities a fickle trickster (yep)
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
(yeah) 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 withered sphincter?
Excuse the image i spat it
In the name of truth (yeah)
Brutal lyrics, hacking at your tapered roots
I play the sabre tooth stranger
In a lake of juice raise the roof
Got the place shaking like a traitors boots

I've been making moves since we
Used to run with underlie
Daktis the smackfish the gruesome one
That loved to write
Up at night perfecting the devils craft
(yeah) penning bars getting higher than
My levels are

Yeah i wonder what them dry
Brehs been doing lately they disappeared
Like the nightmares that used to plague me
(yep) i heard all your newest music
An it's super samey (standard)
So I threw it in a juicer with a human baby

And you thought you were crazy?
Mans sick at rhyming (yeah)
Yeah brag, brag, brag ad infinitum
I span this horizon, handpicked 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 wrestle facts
From collapsed rebels
Cramped in a damp vessel
And when the sands settled
Dash 'em back, chat your fraff
You ain't that special
(yeah) yeah but neither am I
Just weaving the spines of evil
Into creachers that fly
The fleet of the blind
Feasting on a dream and a dry crumb
Yeah i'm out, one