A one man lyrical tornado from Sheffield, England spittin' straight fire.
Introducin' Tabz from the UK, the hottest thing to come out of Sheffield since stainless steel!
Song Info
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.1 MB • 128 kbps • 3:20
Lyrics
no one can compete with the kid
i'm mr lyrical
you better ask god to help you out
you need a miracle
i spit fire on the mic, no respite
i irritate rappers like a swollen midge bite
up in the booth
ya boy tabz is ruthless
think your sick enough to match me on the mic
then prove it
the new kid on the block
i spit the illest shit
metaphors and similies
garage emcees make me sick
and don't even crack a white joke
cause i spit twice as sick as a fuckin room full of black blokes
flow like midas pure gold, rhymes cold +
i got these wank black rappers in chokeholds
i'ma genious, a sick spittin lyrical jesus
i rape emcees with my 25 inch penis
metaphorically speaking
'cause i do well to get 6 inches out of it
especially at the weekend
i leave emcees weakened
from my lyrical ability
i spit with raw versatility
street credibility
got every label in the uk checkin out your boys profitability
time to address some issues
mainly bitches
the ones that run off
takin all your riches (infact)
fuck a chick who's well fit
you can keep your big tits
i want clean dishes not hissy fits
preserve the riches 'n'
record my messages
and spit straight fire like the green professor does
i aint askin for much, just a fat bitch to fuck
and a fat kingy L full of the sickest sticky puks
i couldn't give a flying fuck
i don't need lady luck
to make my way i'll earn a buck
come and see me in the street
but that shows you're weak
cos seeing me in the street
shows you can't see me over a beat
you can't stand the heat
i bury emcees six feet deep
and rhyme harder than reinforced concrete
rappers don't want beef
just call me ruth
i spit hard in the recording booth
lyrically i'm the hardest youth
with enough verbal ammunition
to knock out a rappers front tooth
i'm straight uncouth, the number 1 foul mouthed bastard
i'm the sickest shit, i'm the master
on the mic i'm invincible, indispensable
aint no point to your rhymes like a broken pencil
lyrically i'm the epitome
of what this uk hip hop shit can be
the sickest ever seen
i toke the sticky green to chill out n relax herbally
then i'll go out and just murder some motha fucka verbally
i couldn't end this without givin sandman a mention
he's that wank it's beyond human comprehension
the kid's not even in contention
you wanna learn how to rhyme, bad manz, stand up 'n' pay attention
i think i could write better raps in nursery
my skills are special like a couples golden wedding anniversary
come down and battle me on the back of comet
he couldn't write a decent rhyme if his fuckin life depended on it!
I'm being honest
unlike the jealous little prick who took it upon himself to run his key across my bonnet
now what the fuck did the little prick get outta that?
instead of stickin the nut on me he had to commit a cowardly act
he probably knew that i'm the verbal champ
if i hear 1 more rumour off el i'ma bitchslap him back to fat camp
'cause i am the badmanz i do cartwheels and handstands
and get on daz's tits like grandstand
i spit with no fear whatsoever
my rhymes are so unpredictable
like typical british weather
aint nobody better
you might be the bad manz but
i'm the mutha fuckin wage-setter
i'm way better
