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eggs - jam baxter lyrics

[verse 1: jam baxter]
if a clown can bake a pie full of flies in his house today
and sell slimy slices for a fiver to a crowd of apes
then i can fry an egg and call it god if i want to
sunny side down, trodden, scoff it like its mange tout
puke that straight up and shot it like a nine bar
scoop the remains up and flog it like it’s fine art
it’s all in the name son, it’s all just the same young sir
just words i’m contorting to shapes
some days seem stranger than fiction can ever be
especially when i’ve been yammin’ trips with my breakfast tea
so i was like boom, what’s with the snake skin?
better keep schtum, the gods are deflating
that shoe for the mountains, views are astounding
loose in the cloud where the monsters are waiting
dead flesh fading, what’s that curling around my spine like hot crack burning
swamp rat vermin emerging again
better boot out now to return to the end, like rah
what a super-stellar par
view forever shrink into a single second
misdirect ’em through the centre
futures never happen like the maggots might like ’em to
one day you’re chewing wounds the next that’s what you’re obliged to do
if i were you i wouldn’t take it
burn your allegiance, lie to their faces
gather that up, slappin’ that sludge on the skyline
look man’s finally made it, high rise mazes
what’s that snaking around his tongue better watch man changing
combat training, dead man dancing
squash that craving, let’s get marching

[verse 2: dabbla]
it’s like my girl’s parallel parking
sh-t’s never gonna fit so i squeeze in
release from the belly of the beast
i be banging on my chest and you’d best to believe it
swinging from the rooftop baby
hanging out on the porch all evening
bangin’ on a big fat hootenanny
with a granny in the lap, lean all up in the cup like (where?)
smoke all in the (air)
that’s the way i’m staying
listen what i’m saying, day in day out we ain’t playing
they should weigh their options while they got em or get took apart
man ain’t got no business looking hard you little p-ssyclart
all i wanna do is reel these bars off
philly b on the beat man i pull it up
and you’d better be ready for the blast off
me and jam on the ting we put it up
so high i’ll be laughing my -ss off
looking down on the earth like (is it?)
with a broke leg trying to get it cast off
plus you don’t wanna blink you’ll (miss it)
my demographic is ecstasy mixed with acid
and a bit of psilocybin all crammed in one tablet
raid your drinks cabinet, steal your mum’s jam jar
go out on a drug-fueled frenzy filled with anger
blame it on grandpa, you know what he’s like
easy with a bag of weezy, sleazy on the peace pipe
freezing on the beats like, they call it cold fronts
stacking so much paper mate should get yourself a hole punch
and a bag of golf clubs
long range when i get my pace on
now they’re saying to get my skates on
what i’m saying is i care not for some paper with an old lady’s face on
straight up, let me deal with the ting though
wagwaan gringo chuckin’ motherf-ckers out the window
rappers can’t deal with the lingo
pulling out bars like n0body’s business, k!lling mc’s on the daily
make a pig’s ear with a dog’s dinner when i come through
make your whole crew go crazy
make your old dear have a blue baby
it’s the ldz fam, look it up
and you don’t wanna see my zoot turn shady
so it’s back to the book now, cook it up

[verse 3: jam baxter]
yeah, back to the book
next chapter, land of the crooks
trapped in the woods, i’m ascending
bredren, who’s that gremlin stamping his foot, look
watch and burn, get out the way man we want ’em first
all of the intricacies in my world all merge into one long constant verse
slapped by a demon, i’m so high i can actually see them
it’s angling season, hook line sinker
i got them, now i gotta actually eat them
so when i say that blind faith is a b-tch
next man think i’m taking the p-ss
so i’ma just sit back shaking and sh-t, when really
all i wanna say to ’em is
if a clown can bake a pie full of vibes in his house today
and sell the grimmest ones for fifty nugs to a crowd of snakes
then we can fry some eggs and call ’em gods if we want to
and serve ’em with a crown of th-rns, swimming in some fondue

- jam baxter lyrics

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