Lyrics
We are not asked that the rules of the game should be modified
But if anybody likes to play rough, we can play rough too
Who keeps the verse shining like the break of dawn?
Metropolis sick no matter what break I’m on
Synonymous with Orifice
Bringing it on like cheerleaders in a wack flick that should have been a porn
True, I’m a sick brother you should call me diseased
Move through weak MCs like SARS in Chinese
And bras, pry them open with a crowbar
What, I wasn’t sober — met her in a Soho bar
Yeah it’s over, like Claire Short’s career
I put thoughts to prayers
The weight of my words, that’s a deep cross to bear
habitual rap business addicted to
Trying to live it through
Find out from no-names
Begging on foreign terrain, we don’t play no games
The inky blue-black verse that stain your vein
And leave the rhythm tagged up like my name on the train
Too many brothers on my job
I guess I hold weight
So when we roll tape
It’s over in one take, shake
Battle masses like an earthquake
Make em wonder why they came out in the first place
Es ist kaum zu fassen, was für'n Sound wir nach draußen lassen
Wir sitzen hier und rauchen Massen zwischen lauten Bässen
Der Sound is' Massive hier mit
Und das ganze in 'ner anderen Sprache pas de probleme
All day we’re blazing Po
And now we’re getting late for the show
But that’s already fucking ages ago
Now take off your clothes
Cos it’s getting hot in this
We got Orifice, Mr Gray Nichols, Hoik and Metropolis
Most people feel the need to impress
I just got the steez, I carry em deep in my chest
And yo, heads ain’t ready for heavy lines, I testify
I keep it steady though life is messy in SE5
You were petrified, when I first stepped on the scene
But you don’t even matter to me
I manifest a state of mind of me, myself and I
And space and time when I phrase my rhymes
Yo, you’re tongue-tied like rappers in a wack battle
jack a whole truck-load of man cattle
Can grapple, man I wouldn’t talk if I couldn’t walk (stupid dork)
Fronting like a priest when you’re cooking pork
You’re fucking caught looking dumb with your pants down
The fact is, blud, you’re looking like a damn clown
You’re steady trembling, stuck in a rut with ten of them
Cluckin' and spit and raps with mad adrenalin
Man i can’t remember when we had it so bad
It’s like my world’s caving in, game over — low hand
I seek to represent my destiny
I can’t believe my luck
I feel my soul seeking peace but I’m weak as fuck
I need to break from these chains and shackles
Head games, mad boys trying to take and tackle, what
But I’m about to get what’s naturally mine
Mind is searching for the truth moving backwards in time
We keep it rough
You guys are too even
Fags need a bad black and blue beating
Kind of stranger like who’s Steven?
Dude it’s hateful when you speaking
New words and new meanings
The second son of a drunk man from New Zealand
Like my forefathers, my crew’s region
Germany, France even to Sweden
Bring the fumes on yo to the room ceiling
A bad time to resume breathing
Your fucking brains are too tiny to see them
I hate to use my true feelings
Bitch I’ll beat you for no reason
Had hurt you
A sling shot, an arc of a heart circle
We’re ill if you dudes noticed
Ten thousand men just a few focussed
