Jon Phonics, Jam Baxter, Fliptrix - Dark Days lyrics
Jam Baxter
[Jon Phonics, Jam Baxter, Fliptrix - Dark Days lyrics]
Yeah, yeah dark days
Yeah what’s popping man?
What’s popping, I’m on a nine month
Bong marathon
Life stopped what’s gone wrong?
My mind blows, just like a bomb shell
Governed by the pigtails
Never tell the pigs tales
I flip like heads or tails
Welcome to my betting shop
Please come inside it
Your trust is priceless
It’s just a shame that my coins double sided
Fuck your life mate you’re better
Off taking blind dates
Out for a ice skate, water and a rice cake
I’ll stay at home, tortured by my thoughts
That are dormant in my mind state
I walk like a primate
Praying for a crime wave cuz
I know that crime pays
I ride it like a tidal wave
Trip and hit the stones bitch
Rise to the top and spike
Your drink with a blowfish there’s no air
My lungs are filled with silicosis
The Clint Eastwood of killer flows kid
I’m so smooth, but fucked when I munch two
Pundit's of the mushrooms
Stuck out in the clouds
Like the duttiest of bucktooths
It’s nothing for me to run through
Bust so many bangers that one’s
Bound to fucking snuff you
London to Timbuktu I'm still sicker than you
Still sitting
Still chilling like a fridge full of brews
Still I boy this booth
Still I turning up to weddings
Repping in a boiler suit
Catch a point of view
Grab mine and stab it through
Fry your mind like battered food
Scraps and a bad attitude you
Can have the mood
You can fabricate the truth till
Your fucking black and blue
My stone cold stare will turn
Your motion to a standstill
I'm hype like I can’t stand still
Still I can’t understand
The way my music makes me feel
It’s something that I had to do
Not something that was optional
I'm lost it’s so phenomenal
I feel I'm all alone
But then I'm standing next to lots of you
Standing next to lots of you
I’m living in a system that works
To the dumber man’s benefit
Where one man’s piss is
Another man’s beverage
One hand gives, as the other hands metal fist
Snaps your spaghetti neck back for
The hell of it
I could never get a grip
You could never tighten yours
Tell me when you let it slip
I’ll be there to fight your wars
Live from the lion’s jaws
Liquor drenched dreaming
Riding an iron horse, dripping wet bleeding
I still ascend scheming, every minute
Spent breathing’s a blessing on
This picturesque evening
As Brittan gets freezing, cigarette steaming
Smog cloud kiss of death pirouettes deep in
The hidden depths sneaking
I still attend meetings
With ghouls from my past
See the silhouettes creeping
As vinaigrette seeps from my sadder days
I straight marinade tracks in a
Bag full of gamma rays
Baxter! My cabarets matinée performance
Is staged on the back of a salivating walrus
Navigating forwards… what? yeah
So grab the last of your
Bars and barricade your fortress
Grab a plate a gorge on the bedlam
Straight lovingly prepared by a
Horde of my henchmen the sorcerer's bedroom
The source of perfection
Projected and warped in the waters reflection
So pause for a question, what am I? Answer:
Qualified barrer, dropping rhymes darker
Refusing to bow to my modernised master
Like Zeus on a cloud in my fossilized armour
Zooming around, let loose in the future
Heads don’t belong here like
Troops in Fallujah the truth in the rumour
Dodge death and blue sirens
What then? Drop gems, I puke diamonds
Yeah what’s popping man?
What’s popping, I’m on a nine month
Bong marathon
Life stopped what’s gone wrong?
My mind blows, just like a bomb shell
Governed by the pigtails
Never tell the pigs tales
I flip like heads or tails
Welcome to my betting shop
Please come inside it
Your trust is priceless
It’s just a shame that my coins double sided
Fuck your life mate you’re better
Off taking blind dates
Out for a ice skate, water and a rice cake
I’ll stay at home, tortured by my thoughts
That are dormant in my mind state
I walk like a primate
Praying for a crime wave cuz
I know that crime pays
I ride it like a tidal wave
Trip and hit the stones bitch
Rise to the top and spike
Your drink with a blowfish there’s no air
My lungs are filled with silicosis
The Clint Eastwood of killer flows kid
I’m so smooth, but fucked when I munch two
Pundit's of the mushrooms
Stuck out in the clouds
Like the duttiest of bucktooths
It’s nothing for me to run through
Bust so many bangers that one’s
Bound to fucking snuff you
London to Timbuktu I'm still sicker than you
Still sitting
Still chilling like a fridge full of brews
Still I boy this booth
Still I turning up to weddings
Repping in a boiler suit
Catch a point of view
Grab mine and stab it through
Fry your mind like battered food
Scraps and a bad attitude you
Can have the mood
You can fabricate the truth till
Your fucking black and blue
My stone cold stare will turn
Your motion to a standstill
I'm hype like I can’t stand still
Still I can’t understand
The way my music makes me feel
It’s something that I had to do
Not something that was optional
I'm lost it’s so phenomenal
I feel I'm all alone
But then I'm standing next to lots of you
Standing next to lots of you
I’m living in a system that works
To the dumber man’s benefit
Where one man’s piss is
Another man’s beverage
One hand gives, as the other hands metal fist
Snaps your spaghetti neck back for
The hell of it
I could never get a grip
You could never tighten yours
Tell me when you let it slip
I’ll be there to fight your wars
Live from the lion’s jaws
Liquor drenched dreaming
Riding an iron horse, dripping wet bleeding
I still ascend scheming, every minute
Spent breathing’s a blessing on
This picturesque evening
As Brittan gets freezing, cigarette steaming
Smog cloud kiss of death pirouettes deep in
The hidden depths sneaking
I still attend meetings
With ghouls from my past
See the silhouettes creeping
As vinaigrette seeps from my sadder days
I straight marinade tracks in a
Bag full of gamma rays
Baxter! My cabarets matinée performance
Is staged on the back of a salivating walrus
Navigating forwards… what? yeah
So grab the last of your
Bars and barricade your fortress
Grab a plate a gorge on the bedlam
Straight lovingly prepared by a
Horde of my henchmen the sorcerer's bedroom
The source of perfection
Projected and warped in the waters reflection
So pause for a question, what am I? Answer:
Qualified barrer, dropping rhymes darker
Refusing to bow to my modernised master
Like Zeus on a cloud in my fossilized armour
Zooming around, let loose in the future
Heads don’t belong here like
Troops in Fallujah the truth in the rumour
Dodge death and blue sirens
What then? Drop gems, I puke diamonds