Lyrics
Shut up hankin, stop the wailin'
can't you see merseyside ent is failin',
fuck it, i'll impale him on a railing
his entrails trailing along the pavement,
do a dance on his forehead, stick a warhead,
down his throat, whats the point coz i know he's gonna choke,
your an amatuer character, suckin off the barrister,
just so it goes your way when i battle yer,
dip my hands in glass like van damme,
an continue to punish this bone thugs fan,
with avengance,rip off your poppy on rememberance,
sunday, remember its just for fun ayyy
face it, your rhymes are basic, wrote with no spaces,
you write outside your own pace kid,
jesus christ, lyrical conspiricy,
your just a silly teen, i'm the epitome,
every fucker wants a bit of me, but i'm fickle see
puttin' in the boot like italy to sicilly
(beat change)
WAR YEAH, THATS WHATS GOIN DOWN
BEEF IN THE STREET WHO WANTS A PIECE OF ME NOW,
WAR YEAH, THATS WHATS GOIN DOWN,
IF YOU MESS AROUND GET FUCKED UP, KNOCKED OUT
i'm too fast, i'll attack in the pitch black,
make your lip fat, after givin you a bitch slap,
take that, an i'm not talkin boy bands,
heavy haymakers that make your jaw hang
to the right hand side, take pride in my writin',
five alter egos, who the fuck am i fightin,
i don't know, don't care, smellin victory in the air,
with each verse i hear,
by hankin, mr skills or bonethugs,
only called tha coz he get boned by thugs,
i don't even know why i waste time with it,
oh yeah, he makes the scouse scene look shit,
and thats puttin it bluntly,
i'd rather have my newborn son share a room with huntley,
and maxine carr in a matchin bra,
just to help throw his body in the back of the car,
its over sooner than you think hankin,
drop the yank twang, exchange ya ben franklins
i'll leave this prick on a drip, its curtains
his blood pressure droppin, shit, bring the nurse in
