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b.b.s. - that's why lyrics

[hook: rare]
that’s why you’re a f-ggot and rare’s the best
like ill’ told you, there’s no contest
so don’t lie to yourself when the crew you rep
we’re blessed, now bow your head
so f-ckwit, grab your blankie and get to bed
your raps are said, the crowd went dead

[interlude: rare]
like
crickets…crickets

[verse 1: rare]
yeah, clap your hands to this and bounce up and down
like you’re rootin’ fat chicks, but one missed beat
and you snapped your d-ck, this is bbs, we’re fantastic
this ain’t one or two good songs, it’s a f-ckin’
hat trick, so gather up all you spastic
mcs that try to rap sh-t, and i’ll smother you in plastic
how you think you’re gonna smash cl-t?
your pink shirt with your d-ck the size of a matchstick
the fat kid if you’re startin’ sh-t
you’ll get smacked quick and left with a fat lip to part with
we’re the maddest mcs
from the surrounding seas of a.u.s
that’s [?] if you wanna battle or
beat us on a track, you got some serious sh-t to match
and that’s hardly gonna happen, man
if fightin’ was equivalent to rappin’, i’d be jackie chan
all flexible and in my vocab
i’ve got the dopest raps in my notepad, everybody knows that
it’s a fact, yeah, it’s a fact, uh
yeah, bbs

[verse 2: rare]
that’s why i switch sh-t with sick [?]
i grope t-ts, you’re a hope’s kids that don’t joke
with this, the chauvinistic pigs
i throw my d-ck in between your missus’ t-ts
funny sh-t, ’cause we’re only here for a laugh
you can’t grasp that you tried so hard
so ha, ha, i wrote this sh-t in under an hour
was like ten o’clock till half past
more cl-ss than -rs-, lovin’ this sh-t, i’m full
rappin’ fast with one hand on the mic and the other
with a carlton draught, i get top marks for rappin’ with heart
you lose for havin’ a stab in the dark
the maddest go hard, i’m radder than stark
phatter than parks and i’m better than your -rs-
compet-tors get f-cked, i’ll give you the heads up
get back on the train, i hope you leave and pay for your metcard

[hook: rare]
you’re a f-ggot and rare’s the best
like ill’ told you, there’s no contest
so don’t lie to yourself when the crew you rep
we’re blessed, now bow your head
so f-ckwit, grab your blankie and get to bed
your raps are said, the crowd went dead

- b b s lyrics

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