liam: ayo sky…sky!
liam: stop f-cking with the turn tables homie!
sky: haha, right right right
liam: let’s get this track done
sky: uhhh sure thing… yo watcher
sky: so we good with this beat or what?
watcheroutside: yeah for sure, man
liam: aight, play the beat, i wanna see what i got
sky: alright, here we go, uh, 002 take one in three, two..
~verse 1 – liam looper~
ayo i’m in it
my visions kinda blurry
from the drinks up in my system mister p-ssy liquids thirsty have thirty
bars for your worries
i’m already onto something growing up was never hurried
imma kill em with these riddles bruh
cop a couple nickels from the writtens that im spitting up
your bars are f-cking brittle son
sixteens for dinner with a little rum
the liquor makes the song sicker hit em with another one
i’m on it huh
hate all you want but them cheques we chasing
brace all the walls coz the roof just caved in
take all the shots if you test my patience
i’m the goat call me bron bron
you in burn city if you catch me up at don-don’s
it’s on son
guess the kid really blossomed
bars h-t em hard when i’m spitting homie caution
you see, oc coming through with the hitters
pull a trigger on em if they second guessing we the illest
f-ck the minister
diminish the spitters i’m in it to win it gimme a couple minutes
imma kill em quick
my lungs empty
f-ck rappers are looking petty
pressure heavy coz my destiny has got me making pennies
i’m set to bury the game like 6 feet
click, clack, boom, and the sh-t be deceased
got the honour of a warrior
told to call the coroner
sip a couple coronas steady hoping that we blowing up
it’s over son
jahova couldn’t hold my gun
on top of them
cop a rover for my mum
i’m on that sh-t
bars sounding crispy
shots to the kidney got me feeling kinda tipsy
the hustle never ends motherf-cker call me nipsey
see what you get if you f-cking with the city boy
liam: uhhhh, yeah, that’s all i got
sky: sh-t, that was hard!
watcheroutside: yeah, that was sick!
sky: okay, well, i’m good with that man
liam: ayye, thankyou homies! ayo dolph, you gonna spit?
sky: yeah dolph, what you got?
liam: dolph? homie?
liam: come on, man…
dolph: nah, i got nothing..
sky: come onnnn
dolph: aight, f-ck you guys
~verse 2 – dolphin_usb~
verse? let me have a go. can’t stop on a city work
rhythm follows no plan. whole clan never hold back
cold rappers in a he-rs- while we tour in a stole van
we take shots. bare a lead belly vest
tread light. cops staring if the beer tally’s ten
cheer from the squad. sink boxes in the alley
spent profit from the scally men
score for the somersault? answer eleven
bust out the con of salad insentive
salary is not more than just a debit
set myself on course. focus self impressing
self preservation. ocean who, is taking over
better take note kid. schools of fakers faulter
used to make it sober
grain of salt with the malt. bruise my favourite alter
sinking punch after punch right?
sunk till i’s drunk right?
left my liver shaking
popped off on accident. john travolta’s acting script
stomp to pulp. it’s non-fiction. candid sh-t
got a can with p-ss in it. glock is hand in hand with liquor, sh-t
seaside. saturated. limitless
elusive lurker in the streets. rumours
murmer and i bleed. tooth up. curb a b-tch teeth
see you like madusa. murder and turn you to concrete
chew on the concrete
dead set on cleaning out the roads. sweep em out
red sight on my rifle. i will seek them out
bleed them and go to town. reason to not come around
culdesac’s out of bounds. feet are getting cold now
sky: straight up the flyest jams from the city by the sea! now that’s how you make a record… on to the next one, i suppose