Check-to-check-to-check, yo
Real sick of hearing these p***** talk s***,
They get their throat slit 'cause they're talking to me like I'm thick. And I'm
Real tired of all these bullshit guys, they best go hide 'cause I'm looking for them on the sly
'Cause I've had it up to here, right up to here,
Might have to do it Reservoir Dogs style
Slice of their ear.
'Cause I've had enough of bredders acting tough, trying to get rough when it's obvious they ain't rough enough.
Listen!
I don't just talk the talk, I walk it,
That's why my mouth's always coming out with raw s***,
My rap style's distorted
Like Little Mo getting raped and keeping the baby instead of getting it aborted
Yo, I talk morbid
Just to make you feel awkward
Death's a part of life, yo, you just can't ignore it,
Especially when I rip out your heart and on my sleeve sport it
Like it's something you think's special 'cause your dead gran bought it.
I talk so foul, I talk so coarse
I show no regret, I show no remorse
Like a necromaniac raping a corpse up the a*** passage whilst contracting genital warts
My metaphors are twisted
Like that game where you gotta put the Hob Nob in your gob if you're the last one to come on the biscuit
I'm so s*****ic
That's why I fantasise about finding my mum's ex floating in the bath tub with his wrists slit.
And I'm
Real sick of hearing these p***** talk s***,
They get their throat slit 'cause they're talking to me like I'm thick. And I'm
Real tired of all these bullshit guys, they best go hide 'cause I'm looking for them on the sly
'Cause I've had it up to here, right up to here,
Might have to do it Reservoir Dogs style
Slice of their ear.
'Cause I've had enough of bredders acting tough, trying to get rough when it's obvious they ain't rough enough.
You best ban TV if you want me to stop,
'Cause I'm so heavily influenced by the things that I watch
It ain't just
Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Dogs,
It's Irréversible, Baise-moi and City of God,
It's the news on every channel when I turn on the box,
It's them paedophiles singing on Top of The Pops
Gary Glitter, Michael [Jackson] - What?
On the 'net Ken Bigley got his neck checked off.
That's some
Nasty s*** and still you wonder why I'm sick when I see this s*** and I say exactly what I think.
That's some nasty s*** and still you don't ban it
But you ban computer games, something round here really stinks.
What about cigarettes and alcoholic drinks? Or the animal that died just so your wife could wear that mink?
You're disgraceful like getting caught p*****' in the sink.
Or a white girl who won't suck my d*** just because it's pink.
And I'm
Real sick of hearing these p***** talk s***,
They get their throat slit 'cause they're talking to me like I'm thick. And I'm
Real tired of all these bullshit guys, they best go hide 'cause I'm looking for them on the sly.
Had it up to here, right up to here,
Might have to do it Reservoir Dogs style
Slice of their ear.
'Cause I've
had enough of bredders acting tough, trying to get rough when it's obvious they ain't rough enough.
Check it!
The last verse is just as bad as the first but compared to the second, yo, it's definitely worse
'Cause it's about a guy getting chauffeured in a hearse.
Let me do what Nas did and tell this s*** in reverse:
The hearse
brings the corpse back to morgue
The guy from the morgue undresses the corpse
Embalming fluid goes back out
The blood goes back in, body goes back to hospital where it comes alive again.
The paramedics walk backwards like an Irish dance,
Put the wounded man back in the ambulance,
The ambulance's engine turns back on
And the lights flash as the siren plays its favourite song.
The guy goes back to the exact spot were they found him
And all the medics and the passers by go back where they came from
Till eventually
No-one surrounds him and the blood pours up him rather than down him.
The man unfalls upwards back on his feet,
Stumbles towards a dark figure on the other side of the street,
He walks into the blade
That cut his belly,
Then he holds his neck which was bleeding already.
He removes his hand so that you can see the cut and as the knife undoes the slice it closes back up.
He unsays the words he said which were "What the f***!"
And unscreams the scream from the first initial cut.
Then the blood from his severely severed ear
Crawls back up his cheek and slowly disappears,
As the knife-wielding silhouette unhacks it from the rear -
Puts the knife away after reattaching the ear -
Then walks backwards through the bushes where he's disregarding nature
And leaves the guy on the bench unreading his paper,
Takes the snail he stepped on
Back from his creator
Only to be killed again when I fast forward this s*** later.
Back in his house now
Back in his bed
He unlistens to his CD and unbops his head,
Takes the CD out the player puts it back in it's case which has my name on the cover
Along with my face.
Fast forward: there's been a murder and the police know who done it,
They're looking for a motive 'cause they don't know why he done it.
Sure enough it don't take that long for them to find a reason and they publicly state it on TV that evening.
A couple months later this s*** gets banned
Like it was me who put that switch in his hand
And told him to kill that man,
Like this whole song was just some kinda sickly devised plan
To hurt some poor c*** I don't even know and have never met before in my life.
If it was, then whoever said that "the pen is mightier than the sword" was right and you'd better think twice before you step to me and pick a fight.
Real sick of hearing these p***** talk s***,
They get their throat slit 'cause they're talking to me like I'm thick. And I'm
Real tired of all these bullshit guys, they best go hide 'cause I'm looking for them on the sly
'Cause I've had it up to here, right up to here,
Might have to do it Reservoir Dogs style
Slice of their ear.
'Cause I've had enough of bredders acting tough, trying to get rough when it's obvious they ain't rough enough.
Listen!
I don't just talk the talk, I walk it,
That's why my mouth's always coming out with raw s***,
My rap style's distorted
Like Little Mo getting raped and keeping the baby instead of getting it aborted
Yo, I talk morbid
Just to make you feel awkward
Death's a part of life, yo, you just can't ignore it,
Especially when I rip out your heart and on my sleeve sport it
Like it's something you think's special 'cause your dead gran bought it.
I talk so foul, I talk so coarse
I show no regret, I show no remorse
Like a necromaniac raping a corpse up the a*** passage whilst contracting genital warts
My metaphors are twisted
Like that game where you gotta put the Hob Nob in your gob if you're the last one to come on the biscuit
I'm so s*****ic
That's why I fantasise about finding my mum's ex floating in the bath tub with his wrists slit.
And I'm
Real sick of hearing these p***** talk s***,
They get their throat slit 'cause they're talking to me like I'm thick. And I'm
Real tired of all these bullshit guys, they best go hide 'cause I'm looking for them on the sly
'Cause I've had it up to here, right up to here,
Might have to do it Reservoir Dogs style
Slice of their ear.
'Cause I've had enough of bredders acting tough, trying to get rough when it's obvious they ain't rough enough.
You best ban TV if you want me to stop,
'Cause I'm so heavily influenced by the things that I watch
It ain't just
Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Dogs,
It's Irréversible, Baise-moi and City of God,
It's the news on every channel when I turn on the box,
It's them paedophiles singing on Top of The Pops
Gary Glitter, Michael [Jackson] - What?
On the 'net Ken Bigley got his neck checked off.
That's some
Nasty s*** and still you wonder why I'm sick when I see this s*** and I say exactly what I think.
That's some nasty s*** and still you don't ban it
But you ban computer games, something round here really stinks.
What about cigarettes and alcoholic drinks? Or the animal that died just so your wife could wear that mink?
You're disgraceful like getting caught p*****' in the sink.
Or a white girl who won't suck my d*** just because it's pink.
And I'm
Real sick of hearing these p***** talk s***,
They get their throat slit 'cause they're talking to me like I'm thick. And I'm
Real tired of all these bullshit guys, they best go hide 'cause I'm looking for them on the sly.
Had it up to here, right up to here,
Might have to do it Reservoir Dogs style
Slice of their ear.
'Cause I've
had enough of bredders acting tough, trying to get rough when it's obvious they ain't rough enough.
Check it!
The last verse is just as bad as the first but compared to the second, yo, it's definitely worse
'Cause it's about a guy getting chauffeured in a hearse.
Let me do what Nas did and tell this s*** in reverse:
The hearse
brings the corpse back to morgue
The guy from the morgue undresses the corpse
Embalming fluid goes back out
The blood goes back in, body goes back to hospital where it comes alive again.
The paramedics walk backwards like an Irish dance,
Put the wounded man back in the ambulance,
The ambulance's engine turns back on
And the lights flash as the siren plays its favourite song.
The guy goes back to the exact spot were they found him
And all the medics and the passers by go back where they came from
Till eventually
No-one surrounds him and the blood pours up him rather than down him.
The man unfalls upwards back on his feet,
Stumbles towards a dark figure on the other side of the street,
He walks into the blade
That cut his belly,
Then he holds his neck which was bleeding already.
He removes his hand so that you can see the cut and as the knife undoes the slice it closes back up.
He unsays the words he said which were "What the f***!"
And unscreams the scream from the first initial cut.
Then the blood from his severely severed ear
Crawls back up his cheek and slowly disappears,
As the knife-wielding silhouette unhacks it from the rear -
Puts the knife away after reattaching the ear -
Then walks backwards through the bushes where he's disregarding nature
And leaves the guy on the bench unreading his paper,
Takes the snail he stepped on
Back from his creator
Only to be killed again when I fast forward this s*** later.
Back in his house now
Back in his bed
He unlistens to his CD and unbops his head,
Takes the CD out the player puts it back in it's case which has my name on the cover
Along with my face.
Fast forward: there's been a murder and the police know who done it,
They're looking for a motive 'cause they don't know why he done it.
Sure enough it don't take that long for them to find a reason and they publicly state it on TV that evening.
A couple months later this s*** gets banned
Like it was me who put that switch in his hand
And told him to kill that man,
Like this whole song was just some kinda sickly devised plan
To hurt some poor c*** I don't even know and have never met before in my life.
If it was, then whoever said that "the pen is mightier than the sword" was right and you'd better think twice before you step to me and pick a fight.