A rough ass recordin of an old verse.... just throwin it out there
Fatt Hedonizm is a down-low, dirty scumbag (",) who will charm tha knickers off a nun for a bitta craic! A stankin, anti-social =) social-chameleon. Your local
Wats da Craic people!
Lyrics
I spit raps to split tracks
And rip em down tha centre,
Givin birth to new conceptions
Choking opponants with placenta,
The centre of attentions never quite been my type
Biding my time beside the sidelines
And I lyrickly strike fruits that forget about mics,
Buy into their own hype
Fagot's who go to Gaybars and pretent to bone dykes,
Im showin sights wit my words a camera couldn't capture,
Paragraphs painting a picture DaVinci couldn't master.
I've sat for too long now I'm taking a stand,
Battles from Braveheart but with baggy jeans and a mic in my hand.
I feel inclined to speak my mind cos I've seen so much sh** lately,
Words that disturb you for a purpose like adverts for road safety.
My soul's shaking, I can feel my temper tremble,
Adrenaline rush takes over as a vein throbs in my temple.
Mentally unstable therefore sensibly unable,
To comprehend why i shouldn't end your life with the mic cable.
Cos i crumble callous c*** s when it comes to crunchtime,
If they tied a string to Tyson's arm they'd never find a punchline.
They're all trapped in a sphere, so they can't get to the point,
My mind just begins to clear when i'm on me second joint,
Or tenth bong, i pen sengs in the dark of the night,
Just me a beat and my thoughts
And my bright spark for a light,
I nark the high and mighty bringin an end to condescension
My intention for invention resembling devine intervention.
Like an Old Testement God,
I rain plagues in enemies
But like a cocky goalkeeper, i'll face all penalties,
For askin a god of almost fiction how much scripture's gotten written,
Why the church corrupted people and men got richer being Christian,
I'm not b*** ing or preaching,
Just a Catholic with questions waitin
To ask the almighty when i meet him.
For now i'll keep investigatin
Scriptures and artefacts as my booksmarts attack complacency.
Writing theories about the truth being kept from us by secret agencies.
