[Verse 1]
Ayo, I am in a maze full of
Anabolic cardboard cut outs,
That liberate electrons through sweat
To then bring Stone Cold stun guns out..
"I love my strolls through the woodland but they proceed to chant 'RUN, FOREST, RUN",
It's that time of the month, bloody
Writers block, lets me get nothing done,
Until I bring some life to my oesophagus
Using a sprinkle of coffin dust,
Eat on cirrus clouds and cover the m56 in cotton crumbs
Then spray, through shapeshifting vandalism
Santa's minions puppy eyes
I am thee masochistic masseuse
Pacifist, toy soldier breeder,
Analyst of Che Guevara
My shoulders can't take the weight of slush puppy thighs
You're just new to the scene like Stevie Wonders eyes
It's past tense vision when I say 'seen' underlined
So, take a stand on subterranean stilts
And skip with your 6 fingers with me into some uranium hills

[Hook]
So say it with me
Emib, Bars & Stuff
Still we're seeing, cretins, in cars, with sluts
Until celebs, want to, party with us
Second spot, is hardly enough
(again)
Emib, Bars & Stuff
Still we're seeing, cretins, in cars, with sluts
Until celebs, want to, party with us
Second spot, is hardly enough
[Verse 2]
So look who's back again
Back to rapping again
Back to passionately practising the pendragon anthem,
Back to fixing my quiff in the mirror
Back to mixing my carbonated drinks with liquor
Back to, fixating over documentaries of prison
Snapping back to reality back to back with the man in me
Holding on to this happy meal calorie,
It's catastrophic how tangible goals liquidise rapidly
And this attire that I'm rocking
Has even got Christopher Kane's galaxies gravity dropping,
Pray on the 25th December It's in your stocking
Whilst I pray my girlfriend wears it tonight in nothing but stockings
Ironically, solidify your wet dreams
And put through the girl next doors windows for being to damn sexy
Amsterdam let me
Suck off your cafe's horticulture, until my encephalon is empty

[Hook]

[Verse 3]
Liquid metal pockets, molten lava shrapnel,
Plus the puppeteers strings have horribly calved my ankles,
Life's a deep sea fisherman and he caught me
But I evacuated like the premonitions that taunt me,
So now.. I will bang like a barrel of boisterous bullets
And choke the next brother when I spit out the knots in my stomach
Saturday morning, in the usual state
Slight dementia so, I am asking who is to blame?
Slight dementia so, I am asking who is to blame?
Shit
I'll still be writing the lullabies with the dust off butterflies
Flying out of lucifers cage
I was born crying, so there's no way I will die doing the same
Research your facts before judging my accent,
Or, I'll pop, laxatives in your paracetamol packages
The rhetorical answer is?