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f.a.q - contact play lyrics

[hook]
so have you got a pen?
got a beat?
got a ten?
got a seat?
is your head full of dreams?
do your friends say you’re deep
when you can’t write?
and you ask why?

[jam baxter]
do you need to learn certain things?
do you see the birds circling?
do you feel your first words curdle in
to dirt when you heard me spit?
or are you in a world of sh-t
gurgling and turning pink?
are your versess sick? (nah!)
or are you murmuring in turns like a herd of pr-cks?
or are your chaps burnt first with my percy spliff?
what’s your purposes? i’m asking you
when was your last hard glance in your large mirror?
does your girl yearn for services you can’t give her?
or does your heart skip and dance when you’re charming a [?]
did you fiddle with the clasp on her bra? was she [?]
sitting in the bar in the dark sipping hard liquor
isn’t this a farce?
mr. isn’t this a farce?
did the gl-ss slipper fit and did you figure it would last?
was it written in the stars? sickest at the start
or was your chance slimmer than the women that a gwarn?
as a standard, is it your attraction to grandeur?
do you rap for the gash or the fat cash bonanza?
can jam baxter’s [?] of banter
compact your whole rhyme to a stanza
guys are your chakras in line?
are you prang that your life is a sham for the camera?
a sack full of ganja
why do you chat like you’re wise when you’re w-nkers?
you’re practically [?], are you blind from the anger?
why now?
it’s harmless, why drown in darkness?
why crowd the mic like flies round a carc-ss?
prize out your markers, write down your answers
hide what you like but i’ll find out regardless
i got a question for you
i got a question for you
man i got a question for you
i got a question for you
did i correctly -ssume when i said you were destined to lose?
i got a question for you
i got a question for you
from the [?] to the stench in my boots
since the heads in the room first burst forth my first born
questions emerged and i learnt more

[ronnie bosh]
what did you expect me to do?
any requests? is your best on the borderline?
who’s next to be slewed?
are you bored of life, dormant, left drenched in the fumes
or is your foresight shorter than the length of a zoot?
were you blessed with a [lisp?]or was it [?] get removed?
did your best friends approve, or are them heads [?]
do you regret spending pence on the next skets to screw?
or were you caught like the [ballers?] that infected your roots?
was it more awkward than ordering your sordid horde of p-rn
where wh-r-s get raw pork sworded
why’d you talk gormless?
did you draw the shortest straw for your fore[?]?
would yours fall in?
so what’s in store kid? the rush of endorphins?
or a night spent suffering, befuddled and nauseous?
why not shovel some more since you’re rubbing the salt in?
who really gives a f-ck when you crush it and snort it?
are the four hors-m-n knocking at your front door calling?
were the savage hoods caught gawping?
describe how your life is defined by the countless times
your thought [?]
is that white powder talking
bite down til morning
why crowd the mic like flies that swarm horse sh-t
prize out your chalk, sit and write down your thoughts quick
hide what you like but i’ll find out and [?]

[hook] x2
so have you got a pen?
got a beat?
got a ten?
got a seat?
is your head full of dreams?
do your friends say you’re deep
when you can’t write?
and you ask why?

[outro]
so b-tch are you this
are you that?
are you thick?
are you rags?
are you minging and rich?
are you skint?
are you br-ss?
are you p-ssed?
and are you smashed?
are you twisted and mashed?
and can you tick me some hash?
and can i sniff from your stash?
can we switch to the yats?
is your chick on the rag?
and can i p-ss on her flaps?
can i fist her and dash?
are you fiction or fact?
do you live for this rap sh-t?
are you a stab or a blister?
a gash or a splinter?
a slag or a spinster?
a man or a mincer?
what? nah!
can you stand bosh baxter and stand in your picture
are you a [flanderous fink?]?
are you haps little pr-ck?
or a sad litle whimper?
are you chaps?
are you blitzed?
have you planned for the winter
rags as we spit bars…
who gives a f-ck if you’re a top shotting gangster
and who spits it rougher than the ron bosh and baxter

- contact play lyrics

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