a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

camel face (reece west diss) - saint p lyrics

[intro]
swifta production
wait, wait, wait, wait, wait
so, what?
what, man tried come back from the dead, yeah?
what, after a year?
nah, nah, nah, not today
jump back inna your pram, you p-ssyhole

[verse]
can’t kick ball, sit down, you bencher
your mum looks like -rs-ne wenger
last time you went hard was never
f-ck your world and f-ck your ex
f-ck your girl and f-ck your next one
chat sh-t and you’ll leave on stretcher
man get chop like hannibal lecter
man get eat like reece’s pieces, dead
saint p, not saint west, that’s dead
saying ’bout you wanna do tunes instead
saying ’bout you wanna be friends instead, that’s dead
after 365 days
likkle reece try resurrect, that’s dead
poor attempt, getting g-ssed
’cause your bredrins are kissing your neck
king henry viii, i take off b-tches’ heads
i tried to be friendly with her before
when she stepped on smoke, got upset
then you waited a whole year for revenge
dem likkle bars ain’t making amends
you’re the weakest link, start phoning a friend
yizzy? ain’t gonna back man
some christmas turkey, roast that again
ouch, guess who’s stealing again
like guys hold chiefing again
lights out, try joust?
you’ll hold s-m-n again
beat yourself, no need to pretend
not about, please don’t scheme in your ends
what clout? wear skinny jeans, you’re a mess
man down, wake up feeling depressed
cuh when the sun rises, i’m deep in your head
i know your flow, your flow’s easy
easy peasy, you’re not really squeezy
try act up for tv
off-camera, you’re actually cheesy
burn these guys with nursery rhymes
that try move greazy, when they’re neeky
red bull mandem smoked you last week, gs
can’t try clash me now, that’s cheeky
nasty jack is grim sickers’ dad
you came out of sickers’ b-llb-gs
don’t ever come around me and get g-ssed
only name you’re getting off me is chief
you ain’t got belly, i’ll punch you in the belly
probably cough up one of my sixteens
i’ll sn-tch that like i’ll sn-tch your brazilian weave
burn man nuttin’ like tree
for the bakers, fakers get bun like the top of your bean
bowcatt, make gyal sit on your cheek
i bet you wish that you had double ds, you b-tch
look like you do salsa and wine your hips to the beat
i should just slap you, but i don’t have to
fufu and bag you, ‘fore i come and nyam food
worst thing is i’m his favourite mc
like r-double-e, should i say b-a-d?
you don’t possess your own style
bounce, man better check my foul
bounce man’s head off the necks like owl
leave your perm gel all over your blouse
you cross-dresser, you’re a not clever, i’m a lot better
and i spit a- like a top setter
you’re up -rs-, that’s why you chat fart
nah, you don’t want drama
cuh grim sickers is your real father
i guess that makes nolay your marge
i’ll dash your godson in hot lava
with no shaving cream, i’ll liff your moustache
flex like you’re hard, ain’t built with that heart
can’t rate anyone stealing man’s bars
should punch up his face and make him see stars
like father, like son
grim tried follow ls and got shegged
reece north tried follow saint p, got breeze
can’t be friends with these fake mcs
like father, like son
grim tried follow ls and got shegged
reece north tried follow saint p, got breeze
can’t be friends with these fake mcs

[outro]
you heard what i said, you likkle p-ssyhole
don’t ever try and follow me again and try and be friends, are you mad?
try do a sneak attack after a year
d-ckhead, camel face
skinny jean-wearing, asos cross-dressing model
done with your bloodclart

- saint p lyrics

Random Song Lyrics :

Popular