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catdad freestyle - roskrow lyrics

back on track this menacing c*nt
will snap with raps n’ get a bit f*cked
in fact, this tw*t * yelling abrupt
quick snap, whiplash, develops at once
irrelevant of, type a vehicle
holding a vessel, earth or ethereal
here we all are, burning away
from levels of heat, contained in a page
adjacent to ways that contribute to raging against a machine
times ain’t changing, get me a drink
far too depressing
addressing a message with regular mentions
of death and destruction, i’m deafened in seconds
sent a confession via the ouija, speak of desperate intent
don’t need a reverend
more like a renegade, be a contestant
divorce a serenade, complete with endless
amount of ballads * recite to perfection
come with malice, in pints of rejection
get a bit f*cked up, coughing up blood
from ya lungs, like, bottoms up bruv
impression depressive, but go down a treat
like getting head, whatever you need
in realms of seduction, the art is complete
with methods of war, harmony sings
with thugs at the crossroads, changing the world
take lugs!
swirl into the realm of the rhyme schemes witness
patterns comprised of syllable misfits
rise against a syllabus
where simpletons need a militant formula
with four in a bed, freudian nipple slips
reporting a debt a plethora
of unreciprocal gestures
such a pr*ck to the desperate
unforgivable wretches
cut them quick to the bone
just my attitude roam
down the avenue
get some coke to drown the malibu
wrecking foes, with bars i’m having you
but my bones are match sticks
and i… got a fat lip
c*cky… like to chat sh*t
lanky, sarcastic pr*ck
“oi, this c*nt’s got veins of steel”
ahah, these gains are real (f*ck off)
the rap tom waits
range for days, in all my trades
far from a jack, more like the ace
or the jester thrown out of the place
from flirting with the queen, in front of her king
never would’ve guessed that thee little thing
would be dehydrated as f*ck
dying of thirst, served her some
rocked up * in a he*rs* for fun
call animal rights, ’bout murder one
c*cked a sick verse to run
in costa, then burnt a c*nt
where lady luck got her purse got sn*tched
and statham said “hers ain’t bad”
fair play. could’ve been a worse way
for someone to spend their mondays to thursdays
but friday i migrate to pubs, f*cked!
(bleurgh) straight up, chuck the jacky
but now daniel’s ‘aggy
morgans buzzed while watching ali
the captain of f*ckery, making a tally
noting every time i rally
cat selfies, but learned the things
will instigate… murder scenes
paranoid uncles, spray pentagrams on the walls
get jerry cans to hold some toxic, they put to waste in bags
sold on breaks, school day black markets, passing grades or not
haha, laughing mate
waiting, for dopamine hits
confirm the same thing that we all think
like my sh*t, the toilet don’t care
instagram’s a sl*t, that goes bare*back to strangers daily
shameless, stride of pride in the bailey of castles
artful lodger’s partial to consume f*ck*ton of harmful
liquid taste sick, bought with my payslip
formed by the day shift, saw all the wasted bait pr*cks
hope they break legs, going off the same slip road
go with the flow of traffic
cut em up mid*sentence, hatchets
best foot forward with concept tackling
submerged in the deepest depths of atlantis
chill there, return to the surface
every 7 years to set alight and burn this c*nt

- roskrow lyrics

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