I’m coming hot
This c#nt is not he’s poppycock
You shut your eyes and suck on your lollipop and imagine it’s your buddy’s c#ck
So it’s taylor adams versus jason knifehands
It’s tony d’s favorite white man versus a baby spice fan
You need to take your life back, ‘cause blazing pipes made from sprite cans got your crazy mind jacked like david icke has
I’ma make this guy sad, ‘cause i spit it darker than a katie price tan
I move gas, i’m afraid i’m a farter
You move gas with your mate in a garden, hiding, whistling, filming for facebook and laughing
While you’re saying ‘where are ya’? where are ya’, i can hear ya’ but i can’t see ya’, where are ya’?’
I spit it greater and bring the flavor
I wrote this on a pen and paper elevating on a bed of nails whilst penetrating cheryl baker on record breakers
Your mother’s knicker vapors are chicken-flavored
That silly b#tch is listed in the business bit of the yellow pages as a fetish slave who’d literally lick the sh#t from a dripping an#s for a cigarette and a bit of paper
I heard she once did blizzard a little favor and give him anal in exchange for a spliff and a sip of jäger
How come you’re joanna lumley size but you have a mum that’s wide
She’s so fat and dumb that i call her apple crumble fight
Hear me rhyme good and she’s a really nice woman
But she’s so weirdly white her skin’s clearly quite looking like a creamy rice pudding
I made your mum sick when she licked my medicine balls
You can’t blame me definitely ‘do ‘cause she once did every member of your secondary school in the assembly hall
You get a hard-on fast whenever dance moms starts, believe that sh#t
This geezer’s sick, he’s a prick
I don’t know if you seen the story but it’s recent and it seems legit
People’s kids have been playing with this thing called the evil stick, and it’s his p#n#s tip
You look like a snowman that’s been socked in the eye with a lack of creativity
I refute chasing the word ‘respect’ around a circus tent, i circumvent
I’m only this skinny because i spend my time kicking the f#cking earth to death
Cry me a motherf#cking bucket of tears about how you struggle to get love from your peers
I’m only here because, i haven’t killed a hooker in years
Oh pammy why did you start? pretty please lie me a farce
You hit a mile and a half shy of the mark
This battle is watching beige paint dry in the dark
I’m only here ‘cause dog-walkers make it exceedingly difficult to cry in the park
I’m on that sam seeds, rubber legs, quicker than a bookie’s pen
Oh don’t you love it when, your style is a dozen eggs smothered from a mother hen?
I stay poignant as something danny glover said
I’ll smother this hooker dead with a slice of buttered bread
Stick to framing stamps and emailing bret hart your favorite chants
I will show up at your door with 10,000 trailing ants waving shanks, threatening your neighbor’s plants, demanding to be paid advance
b#tch, i fight like a 1984 kevin bacon dance
I will kung fu your front tooth for footloose like f#ck you, kevin bacon bars
Dare me to snap
I will b#tch-slap you in front of a glaring of cats as they glare at ya’ back
With 11 magpies on a line perched to attack
Your style is cold porridge for the mother bear
‘member when you left, and nobody f#cking cared?
The difference between me and you is, you use barbie scissors to cut your hair
I turn on the gas and struck a flare
Everything i buy from ikea i turn into a wooden chair
f#ck this dirty sket my words are best
Referencing something in that first you said you were gonna kick the earth to death
But you can’t ‘cause i got there first and now no turf is left
You animal-eating
He’s bi-snackual, ‘cause he had gammon this evening and he’s a vegan
You ain’t go ham or the sandwich with beef in
J {?} crackers and i actually believe him
‘cause you look like tamsin that, actress from green wing
Got packed with a snatch full of s#men after shagging a cheese string
Get it, cheese string ‘cause he’s thin
I spit great puns, you’re a thin lame c#nt
You ain’t big jason, you look like big j’s son
The other day i saw posh and becks having sex within the loos
I say loos ‘cause i saw rebecca with them too
Now i know you need to go and eat a belly full of food
‘cause i’ve seen victoria beckham in the nude
And even the silicone that she went to get removed from her little set of b##bs is heavier than you
I feel i need to carve you a steak that’s like half of your weight
And even still it wouldn’t fill the middle part of my plate
I should fart in your face but i can’t ‘cause my target’s off
Your bars are soft, there’s no way that you’ll par me off
‘cause you look like you went to the barbershop and asked for the charlie sloth
He’s past his lot like a gnarly rocker who became old
This party popper’s just a lame joke
You look like jarvis cocker and your brain’s pulp
I don’t need to bring a gun innit son, i’ll let the words kill him yo
I’ll leave calcium missing, which is ironic if the nerds didn’t know
‘cause you look like the milk carton from that blur video
And i’m coming in hot, his mum is a dog
He’s from the same place as the beatles, but not the ones discovering pop
Actual beetles, ‘cause he lives under a log
Oh wouldn’t it be dope if i, would oh so contrived, hoped you’d died
So do let’s
Your style is yesterday’s fish stock repackaged and shipped off and preheated in your local chip shop’s unrinsed pot
I’m what hitchcock would think of if he sniffed rock the size of a quick drop from the brink of a clifftop
Who you think brick top gets his f#cking pigs off?
I’m on that handwritten, nan-knitted mitten box, b#tch get to kicking rocks
You smoke weed bruv, i smoke sniffer dogs
If i didn’t have to be here i could be in the treeline licking frogs, tryna raise 1.21 gigawatts
I like to ride my bicycle a lot sipping liquorice schnapps tryna nick all your pogs with my motherf#cking dick in a box
I’m on that f#cking, white rabbit hot water combo bowtie-kwando
Balloon animal jiu jitsu first dan
On my third can i’ll hit you with four dab hands in a work van
My nan blessed my cotton socks, i’m not scared fam
You look like you listen to birdman
You have far too much of a v#gina to stop me
I will run you over while drunk-driving the designated driver the offie
With no feet
I’ll f#cking smother this coast guard with a postcard of his own beach
‘member when you said, you didn’t care if you made stacks as long as they clapped
That’s a gay fact
You rhymed ‘poo’ and ‘loo’, suffice it to say some things you just can’t take back
Dick in a box
You wanted to battle daylyt
You wanted to battle daylyt on some tight-pant tip ‘cause you’re gay but you’re straight sick of white man’s dick
So you asked if they could make him come and fly back quick
‘cause you knew that he’d get naked and you like that sh#t
You wanted to be the first rapper on don’t flop since mos prob to go down on one knee on the stage but he won’t cause
You didn’t wanna propose dog, you wanted to give him a bl#wj#b
You wanted to come in mid-day, like a sofa from dfs
He once went to the dealer he owed dough for a piece of meth and tried to buy coke with a vhs he’d just stolen from bhs
Stop lying about the girls you’ve had sex with
He reckons he’s had so many babes off of baywatch he’s basically dave ‘hoff
Your rate of the weight loss is greater than kate moss whereas i keep getting bigger every day i’m awake ‘cause i see that bread like the great british bake off or {?} in a cake shop
It’s like when you was born god mixed up your arse and head
This scouser’s past his best
He’s like dougal from father ted if he starred instead in the cast of bread
I was originally supposed to be battling soul at this mad event
But you stole his role, and his bread, like you was jacking jed, at a greggs
I didn’t think that would have effect, i just wanted to star in bad bars with body bagnall next
Yeah, bagnall’s the fella
His cameras are better
He’ll focus the f#ck out ya’, ya’ better be packing the cheddar, pamflit is clever
‘cause i just wrote a load of dope jokes and told ‘em sandwiched together
I promised myself if you used the term ‘rapping it great’ in this battle today i would throw you at a grenade
This matchup is a motherf#cking slap in the face
We can fight, ‘cause to me hospitals are free sandwich and a packet of grapes
True story
I’ll mug you for an apple a day
Who’s back to his best?
Who’s phoning up the nhs and asking for sex?
Who’s cashing in checks to take whose ex-girlfriend’s cats to the vet? me
I’m sick of these m#th*rf#ck*rs that try to act crazy i am crazy as cat ladies tryna contract rabies
You look like pat swayze’s illegitimate crack baby
I stay slick as my nan’s gravy, pam samey, you’re samey as ever
You look like wham! had a motherf#cking baby together
I’ll force his lady at leisure to make me a sweater
I’ll visit your local golf course and hassle staff till they make me a member
Steal the eighth hole and make my nan’s garden the far faker the better
Kill yourself and save me the pleasure of grating pepper in your open wounds
I’ll make it in your local news for stealing soup with a loaded spoon
I’ll stab you during a game of snooker and claim i didn’t know the rules
I’m down to kill a baroness for a motherf#cking chauffeur’s shoes
Who delivers the henry chinaski?
And who looks like motherf#cking kelly kapowski?
You do, you do, die in a fire, die in a fire
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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