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serious man business - contact play lyrics

[dirty dike]
yo!
pow!
i’m throwing rocks at medusa
clock where you cotch with my optic maneuver
i piss you off like a shot from the future
my sock’s full of goo with my c-ck in the hoover
step to me? man you’re best to bring your weaponry
i’m drunk with a machete tryna punch you with a set of keys
jabby jabby stab – now your skin be the key socket
beating mcs till they be screaming “please stop it!”
knees knocking got you shaking in your boots
i’m breaking in your room
b-tt naked with a noose
fuck faking it its true
i’m stuck raving to the loop
of a suffocating baby duct-taping up the womb
mr. d-i-k-e-s-t-a-r
the type of guy to take a shit in your mates car
i break gl-ss with your face and create scars
dictate the shape of your heart in my brain jars

[jam baxter]
the slang churner
leave your man’s on the back burner
you gr-ss man will get shanked with a frankfurter
it’s m-ss murder
see the beef happens
when i reel out my three thousand meat cannons
see i’ve been where your team hasn’t
to the brink and back
i stink of raps
i be p-ssion
getting beat with police batons
then i frantically wank in the back of the meat wagon
burn weed till my teeth blacken
then i’ll stamp on your air force twos till your feet flatten
these yats want a piece of my gammon steak
yeah, as long as when i jizz you evaporate – b-tch
i battle fake kids with a carrot cake
and i gaffer tape fish to your scabby face
your tunes flop
and my huge c-ck is bigger than the buildings i piss from the roof of

[dirty dike]
splash my paste on the back of a white witch
eyes twitch from left to right till my sides split
i’ll slash your face and make you smile like you like it
b-tterfly knife shit, fuck you with a night stick
i’m sick!
i’m mentally insane
i’m drenching you in pain
just for mentioning my name
spirals in my eyes
with a wrench stood in the rain
the stench of what i say
is from the henchness of my brain
fuck a paycheque
i’m straight clenching on your face
and collecting up the change
in a mentalistic state
i’ll pretend to be your mate
stab you in the back
stamp on your skull till it fractures and it cracks
mr magical with facts
manhandling your raps
dash them in a black bag with sandwiches and scr-ps
i’m a vandalistic twat
and you’re nothing
monkey-puzzle jigsaw village country b-mpkin

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