When I'm spittin writtens, I'm on the top of my game But you couldn't fuck with me when I'm coming off the top of the brain Don't grab that mic like you wann ruck I hear dead people so shut the fuck up! My rhymes are like hitting Paul daniels with an axe, I split wigs I got fire in my brain that'll smash your shit Shit'll be over in a hurry like a Tyson bout Coz your rhymes are see through like you wrote em in a green house I'm the kind of guy to scare the sky and make it start raining Snatch your eyes out your skull and eat em so you can see what I'm saying I put pen to paper, ink to loose leaf Send you a cow in the mail and you still dont want beef Taking rappers beats like I'm commiting verbal rape Step to me with a horse voice and get turned to celotape I fuck you up proper, coz my whole style's unique Feeling like an over worked French chiropodist you're fed up with defeat I'm like a bull china shop, you know I'm fuckin smashit it Hip Hops for everyone but I get jealous and unpassionate Steaming the open mic, barging people like a rhino Non conformist, I pass the deejay a square vinyl Nod my head to the other emcee even though he's a disgrace Tell Him I like his shit then I spud him in his face And thats what you get for spitting like a nob Man like me got more bars than the Italian job You best take legs coz i'm the wack emcee stalker Hot on your heels like a barefoot firewalker Why the fuck you bother when your flows so shoddy Show your head to the audience to prove your a nobody After they hear me ain't nobody feeling what you spit Your wack not even the Churchill dog gonna nod to your shit Your bark was pathetic and your bite wasn't vicious Why these fuckin rappers gotta have these death wishes When I jump on stage, rappers be shittin bricks But not the same bricks they glorify when they spit Broke cats in bedsits be rapping like Shaun Carter Their careers over before it started, So why they start up? They claim their driving Bentleys, when really they drive a metro Standing in the street with a jerry can with no petrol Fuck raps about money, Fuck raps about cars These rappers ain't shooting straight like homosexual porn stars If you ain't feeling me, your seeing me as a threat I'll turn you to ash coz your the british slang for cigerette I spit nothing but that real hip hop I got words to make a wack rappers beating heart stop And thats when they know that they're catching flatlines When they're catching flat lines that means I'm dropping phat rhymes Hip Hops in me, I'm a true mic wrecker So fucking street born on a double decker Top floor not your average emcee I rip shows like geeks rip mp3's I see through you, I make the crowd boo you You just ain't right like a goth rocking Fubu Quit rap leave home, go on the run I ain't feeling what I'm hearing like a paralysed ear drum You're a waste of space emcee a rapper with no flows It's only when you're anonomous you're hating on the pros
Read the complete lyrics to "56 Bars Part 2" by S. Kalibre. On Lyrks you can follow along with the full text, explore the artist's discography, and discover related songs. The track is often categorized under Rap.
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