On Tick
Ayy, check it nerve, oi!
My girl does hot shit (Yeah)
Like strangle fans in the mosh pit (Nice)
After rackin' grams like it's on tick (Uh)
I got this
Fuck with math like I'm Doc Frink (Yeah)
So I clocked ya clique
Runnin' backwards: tock tick
Every single stanza I drop is sick
I got a Twitch where I shit on
Rappers every time they want to spit
My lyrics toxic like my state of mind
I take advice from mates who blaze the
Ice pipes and then escape with crimes (Argh)
Take my time? Nah
Rush this shit and make a mess
Couldn't pay the rent so how the
Fuck I'm s'posed to pay respect?
Or make amends
'cause lately I been changin' tents
Yellin' at a bunch of vacant heads
Like I raised the dead (Urgh)
My shit's crack, son
I rep that and if I pressed wax
It would turn ya into a meth lab
And leave ya scratchin' like ya sweat rack
Every time I blessed raps
I give DJ Sam over the next tracks
Get ya pen snapped, I'm on some other shit
After this album settle down
Have a couple kids (Yeah)
Raise 'em up to be tough and fit
And when I buster spit, son
I'll make them suckers do my fuckin' mix
(Bitch)
Do my cuts and shit then they can move out
(Ha) i'm always losin' track of time
When the crews round (Yeah)
Had a cypher last night, pourin' few Stouts
Skrub was eighteen back then
He's twenty-two now
Those some nice shoes, kid
What size are those shoes?
They look about my size
I think they'd look better on me actually
Oi i sell beats to myself for free
They got the Kung Lao kicks
That can melt ya teeth (Wapow)
Your criticism isn't helpin' me
Not on a mission for the wealth
'cause my health is cheap (And uh
What else? Uh) My grandmama drives a Skyline
She doin' doeys while I'm sippin'
On some fine wine
Bumpin' Bowie in the back
'cause his flow is fat nah, he died
So I'm actin' like I know his tracks
Work a full week but
Live like I'm unemployed (Yeah)
Searched the whole street like
"Who took the dumpies? Oi"
I'm a grumpy boy, I can't help it
I'm half selfish and I'm sick
Of this disgustin' noise (Uh)
Ya mum's a toy, I saw her chuckin' throwies
She was wearin' bum bags
And some Stussy clothing (Toy)
Turned around like, "Yo, is this Bunsen
Homie?" i proceed to back away
(Fuck) , something slowly
I think someone owes me, 'cause I'm broke
Son
Spat forty bars and I haven't even woke up
(Ha) i'm a joke, huh? I make the kids laugh
And when they do I tell 'em, "Shut up
Kiss arse"
I spit fast, trust me this a slow track
I'm gettin' lazy
'cause everyone else is so wack
Catch me with my notepad
Writin' shitty ghost raps
Sellin' them to cats so in
Comparison I'm dope as 'Cause I'm dope as
