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level (dylan brewer reply) - shelton lyrics

[intro]
yo, shelton yeah, reply to dyl brewer
f-cking martian-head
shout out my loe, man
jack on cam, bg media
yo, shout out callyman, barky, bobo
ricko, kirky, shauny
check, yo
(nah nah nah nah, westy)

[verse]
hey dylan, all you do is chat sh-t
say i’ve got black teeth and i sucked on d-ck
and my mum is a snitch, yeah you’re taking the p-ss
i be taking this kid to his grave real quick
he ain’t ready for this, he’s a feminine b-tch
your flow is sh-t, i’ll be deading him quick
is it true you got raped as a kid
you got raped as a kid
‘013, you smashed my window
now you’re trying to stay that you dropped my big bro
why’re you chatting sh-t, bro?
that’s funny, that yellowish skin tone
we all know that it’s you that gives deepthroat
dylan looks like he’s got chemo
something from a freak show
he knows that i’ve got a deep flow
he’ll get murked any day of the week, bro
you sh-g minors, yeah you’re a paedo
it’s a reload
you sh-g minors, yeah you’re a paedo
dirty b-st-rd, such a madness
you can send but in a clash you ain’t lasting
found bags of weed in my garden
never got a chance to thank him
he wasn’t treading that, fam, it was hanging
home grown that dylan was slanging
why’re you sending shots, thinking you’re the champion
guess what? your shots ain’t landing
chat pure sh-t about ryan and callum
no you never banged him
you never banged him, are you daft?
you ain’t a match for a complete spaz
that is a fact
you got jokes but no you can’t rap
the size of your head is mad, how far is your hairline back
you got a long neck looking like a giraffe
you beat me on grime, are you mad?
you must be smoking crack
dylan’s been smoking crack
you put it onto onto callum, got smacked
what a daft twat
i don’t want to hear you send back, it’s the end, that’s that
yo, f-ck off to scotland
your bars are dead, i bet you’re going to flop soon
go hide away in your box room, you’re a lost yute
you ain’t got food
can’t sell weed ’cause bare man knock you
you’re just a fiend
it’s fine as you’re onto
get a roundhouse like kung fu
who you trying to talk to when you do is talk poo
don’t know anyone that rates you
murk you on my own, it ain’t going to take two
you got the same shaped head as a grapefruit
hey brew you know i don’t rate you
you’re just a fake dude
that’s why your exes played you
think you’re a mad cat? i’m a sabretooth
you chat pure gas! i say the truth
you ain’t making moves
it’s blatant to see you’re a pagan too
you got bare man hating you
you’re getting smoked like i’m blazing a zoot
every other week i’ve been making a tune
you’re just a hating goon
how can you call me a tramp
i live in a 5-bedroom house
tns on my feet, new lacoste pants
ps in the bank, so brewer shut up with your rants
your flow’s off-beat, it’s wank
you little skank, you dance
or get blown up something like france

f-ck you, dyl!

- shelton lyrics

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