Example - Pedigree lyrics

Yo, yo, what?
My rapping pedigree you'll never be
I'm steadily growing
You can hear it when I'm flowing
So can I so why you telling me?
Say I'm one of God's heavenly creatures
Big facial features
I'm flowing like some pensioners
With broken urethras
They're having a stress
See I'm pissing out these lyrics
Like my bladder's a mess
And you had to confess, yes
You're very impressed
"He's the finest Elliot since Eliot Ness"
And you'd never have guessed that I'd
Be one of the fighters
Surprises to rise from a scene where
They don't pay attention to guys
Who ain't living a crisis
Or been running advice
Almost gave up cause I felt like I
Needed a license or something to rap
Then I realised there's guys who've
Been shot who were crap
When it comes to performing
I'm storming your stage
With the rage of a bear
That's escaped from it's cage
And ignoring the pricks that just moan
Throwing sticks and the stones
Who just sit there at home and assume
That a label will call em, applaud em
Arrive on their doorstep and
Sign them and shit
It takes pure hard graft, mate
You're having a laugh and a half
So have a bath, Herbal Essence your mindset
Polish your rhymes, yep
You're lacking in style
Me? I'm sticking out my neck
Like a fucking giraffe

I'm just rapping for the sake of it
What you make of it?
Usually I try and make a hit
So now you think I'm making shit?
Maybe it's the fact you're
Simply thinking fucking hell
It's a song about nothing
Still he does it fucking well

Everybody looking for a piece of the pie
But the pie said goodbye and
I'll be fighting for scraps
So I tightened the straps on my belt
Hit the tarmac finished the last lap
My very first season in rap
There's reason to clap in
The time that's elapsed
I've been haps but I still ain't
Achieved what I wanted so back
To the lab for a snack cause like Andy McNab
There's more raw stories to tell
Go the distance like Phileas Fogg
Rapping back of the net shit
Like I'm Didier Drog
And in the silliest fog
You still see me coming
Get attention, like Lily Allen's MySpace blog
I'm chatting still, rapping ill
Packing skills
Bring the party like a bag of pills
Standing on top of the hill
Never tumbling down like Jack and
Jill or a wagon wheel spitting fire
You could say I know how a dragon feels
Twenty quid eBay
My mixtape shifts for the kids
And it ain't even mixed by a DJ
Better with age, it's a fact bro
You've gotten worse over the years
Like Westwood's rap show
Put a finishing touch like
Who does the peaches
You can't reach this, I'm top shelf material
Deary, oh, deary old me
Cheerio to the old lot, hallo EG

It's a song about nothing
Still he does it fucking well