Tom: D minor
Verse 1
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I hate everything. I hate life. I hate my mum. I hate you. I hate talking. I hate music. I
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hate hip -hop. I hate beer. I'm drinking. I hate dying.
D
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Check the city, skate days.
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Spent days in this little place.
River base.
Cambridge blazed in a shitty state.
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Lace my trainers and pace
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with a silly face
Gimme space,
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aimlessly aiming to tick an 8
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And then I'm zoning out
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in smoky clouds
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The postcode ghost in this lonely town
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I'll show dope flows, floating sound
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It's over now, jokers down
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Focus, close your mouth
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I'm coming back with a massive force
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Flicking matchsticks,
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pissed in the back of your classic
Porsche
Magic thought storm, back and forth
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Orgasm track, it's porn
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Until the panic storm crack of dawn
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I'm trying to figure out what's what
through these hip -hop
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hotspots I spits not quick
And I'm still pissed off,
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I'm never pleased like
head disease medics
My rests are
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PB, these extra scene edits
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Checks and clean debits have
bounced and decked
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Because the fresh rappers
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trapped in the alphabet
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I've met thousands, gun to my head,
I've met a handful
And that's at best 10 down
drug tested sex pests
Check, check,
yes this is untangled less mess
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But your mum's strangled and mutilated
It's too late for you to fake
the stupid move and make it
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I'll use your faces as a place
for lubing rapists
My basics and humour
rejuvenates your hatred
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So stop the frowning
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Dirty dyke and the doctor's sound
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Elevated straight off the ground
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I'm here to generate the populace now
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I'm here to spend a little time,
be obnoxious and loud
Box beats to the ground,
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keep rockin' the crown
Here to speak honestly like
Clown
Mr.
Key's policy of opposite frowns
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Cos these three are down like an
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A strange clash, wait back for
Madcap and
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I'm in your face with a fake act,
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sayin' I cre ated rap
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And I came back to claim tax
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To
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MC's, get your pockets out
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When I stop and shout, check the double
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D and the doctor's sound
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Let's go.
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Thank so much I hope enjoyed the video,
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time.
F#m
You
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