Dirty Dike - Am I download mp3

Lyrics

Am I wack like your first show?
Or am I bad like a black magic curse
No I’m fat like a burst nose
Clap from the back to the third row
Back slappin' birds am I just a sack of words and some cracked bones?
Am I lost in this bucket full of knuckleheads?
Fucking messed scuffles when you’re drunk and theres nothing said
Am I missin' out on love in my public bed?
Nothing best trust but I’m stuck puffin' skunk instead
Am I tough as lead? Cuss what my mother said
Trapped 'til I spread rubbish dust now we’re huggin' less
Am I causing your husband some sudden stress
Or am I just another bumpkin thats under dressed
None the less
They say I’m tight like a shrunken vest, why?
'Cos I’m fucking fresh, rhyming like drunken sex
Am I trapped in the spiral of drugs and death
The vinyl that’s scratched or the cries when your mother’s dead
I’m in your mind when it bubbles red
So I’m like five tons of trouble when there’s nothing left
A sick muddle, am I a kiss or a big cuddle
Am I a big fat shit or a sick puddle
Am I the dick muscle twitch when your bitch struggles
This is it juggle this script 'til I spit rubble
Quick swiftness, shit am I a bit pissed?
Sick as the switchblade gripped by the thick stubble
Am I normal or am I sane?
Shall I snorkel my way through the thoughts of my shallow brain
And not pause 'til I’m back again?
Am I gorpin' in pain at my war face or am I vain?
Am I the skin of the drum that you’re tappin' on?
Clap along let your head snap to a happy song
Am I a back stage pass or a
Smile as wide as your fat mates arse?
My rap breaks glass and takes half your mates bars
Straight past ancient days and leaves great scars
Leaves great fucking scars, yeah
Am I the tidbits, the what is this? The hot business?
Who’s got spirit and only stops to rock lyrics?
A novelist with a lot of shit in his oesophagus
The doctor said stop but I’m lost so I’ve got to spit
What is this? And thats an obvious blag
Am I captain piss man’s colostomy bag?
Or a spot in your mag or a slag getting robbed?
Oh God this is mad I’ll just dodge it and plan
To escape the fates and be free when I suffocate
Nothings changed, drunk, puffin' eighths in a fucking state
In a fucking state
Fuck off
Am I the missing link?
Hobbit feet, tree swinging monkey grin
Tectonic hints of a stone-faced chiseled chin
Am I the will to win?
Like a million men who missioned in the depths of winter
To stop Nazi militia men pillaging their villages
Man am I the village idiot?
Who dribbles mic-deliverance spinning the riddled synonyms?
Through righteous limbs and ligaments, for instance
Imagination figments illuminate the darkness in the distance
Am I paddling like pimps in down dead man’s curve?
Or am I drinking pints of piss just like a bed pan perv?
Until my head can swerves, is this the head case hurts?
Smuggling verbs over across vidicodes you choose to observe
Am I that class A dude spitting class A tunes at dark venues?
Find me in blacked out backrooms
Of the man on the moon strapping head shoots
While simultaneously cooking up some scag in a spoon
Am I that cynic with many lyrics?
The devil with existential metaphysics questions in the age of scripts to paint
the minds of millions?
Or am I another one of many earth bound spirits?
Tried to fight the theorists only to find I’m made in his image
Am I just a set of useless shapes and shady remarks?
A person can bode the penny’s chaupar shining, what?
The shadiest parts
Wrist slit as I lay in the bath
I see a red sea embark
Even Moses couldn’t part with his magical staff
Satanical scars, diagonal charms
See I’m the man 'til I’m outreaching my mechanical maniacal scars
Spitting cannibal bars
Filled with sicker imagery than a VHS of Animal Farm
Am I that man who walks in circles never learning a thing?
Almost regressing every second through a blaze before I felt I figure my sins
A single organism twitching
Before the axis of the Earth had ever started to spin
Am I the vibrating hammer on the strings with over-rapid ivory hits
Echoing inside grand piano lids?
Or am I the software packages that cut and paste the symphonies for kings into
a bangin' loop of gigs?
Am I the sun-dance kid?
Am I the matrix glitch?
Am I the dusty vinyl scratches and skips these amazing scripts?
See its weed-psychosis of a garbage pail kid
I never stabbed him in the ribs it was the demons in my mind that did
Am I the last laughing lager lout?
Downing car scales in large amounts before last orders, fast passing out
Fastest bastard about to blast an ounce
Who’s barred from half the bars in town?
Am I Ed Scissortongue?
What? His alter ego’s got me going psycho over songs
Am I that wack jam host, likes to backhand foes?
It’s best advised that you avoid him like a pac-man ghost