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lunar c - mate of a mate lyrics

[verse 1: lunar c]
yo, just another sixteen about how you copped a whip
speaking about your watch and sh+t
every song sounding like you’re reading out a shopping list
reminded daily of all the trouble my mouth has got me in
’cause i’ve got an imprint of a sovereign ring on my chin
how come my alzheimer’s doesn’t help me forget to smoke?
joints f+cking up my breath control
sounds like i got shot up in the chest and throat while i was getting stoned
and the fumes made the doctor forget to sew up the exit holes
stub it out and light another up before the smoke’s stale
your missus sucked me off while your kids cut my toenail
she ain’t used to handling what i’m packing
got her feeling like a f+cking darts player with the javelin
any nasty wh0re with half a brain can be a star
as long as they’ve got a p+ssy and a camcorder
all these b+tches need is hard d+ck and a father figure, but not in that exact order
getting noticed like a stalker with a squeaky shoe, [?]
make a tourist wish they didn’t take the scenic route
sticky smooth+talker, i’m just tryna get dough
ten rolls of fake rolies in the lining of my trench coat
i think it’s time i took some time off
maybe put my feet up and signed on
see me peering through my blinds, veneered like a china man
spliff burns got my slippers looking like crocs
we don’t high+five and have group+hugs
f+ck b+tches and do drugs
to give her a few f+cks
got these internet trolls b+tching like ‘you suck
stop rapping about weed and think of some new stuff!’
b+tch, stoned is the way that we walk
if they ain’t smoking then show them the way to the door
don’t leave home, it ain’t safe anymore
stop you with some bredrin
who’ll stomp you out for mincing while you’re jogging in your jeggins
[verse 2: lee scott]
your mouth dryer than the lint in my pocket
’cause i couldn’t find a bottle of coke with god written on it
i need to smoke but the devil on my shoulder used the chip for a spliff and didn’t give me a whiff
my right shoulder’s derelict, the angel’s probably in heaven lit
so i rolled my sleeves up exposing every trick
like f+ck them, i could’ve left them in the book and [?] the weather’s judging
but i don’t give a f+ck, unless we’re blunting up, looking like a hundred bucks at least
minus a few quid for drugs and sweets, both eyes on the gwop and no time for a clock
vanilla jesus ghost riding a yacht
i float right to the top without trying
this coke mountain not mount zion
uh, i sit still for a week, making power moves
i’m crazy fly like [?]
i’m in it for the b+tches plus paper
you say you’re in it for the love but love hates ya
when life was like a success in a daydream
i rap like i know we’re going hard in the paint [?]
it’s going off like a petty blunt
to be honest i don’t really like anyone
apart from that i’m quite peaceful
i agree with everything [?] says about white people
i’m the incredible hulk in 3d
you need to sit on your hypeman’s shoulders just to see me
i’m drunk and seedy
it’s okay though, i’m only like three people away from f+cking ri ri
my mate’s mates with a$ap son, it’s true
my other mate’s mates of a mates r. kelly or something too
so i’m basically famous, who the f+ck are you?
give you [?] fly tippers crew
shut the f+ck up

[verse 3: dirty dike]
yo, packing [?] standing in my shed of wellies
revving motorbikes and handing out expensive tellies
hanging from the ceiling is my rack of ten machetes
and i just remembered that my dreams [?] getting messy
suffer, tryna stroke the cat backwards with a soaking hand
known for anti+social banter in my local town
homeless now but when i’ve sobered down, i’ll own a house
and pay a bunch of lonely chauffeurs just to show me round
close your mouth but keep your eyes wide, panicking
i fly by grappling a size+9 mannequin
i spied happy in a timeline vanishing
saddle on my swine as i glide by, galloping
i drank shattered wine glasses with a wench
and wonder what thirst this happy b+st+rd’s tryna quench
you’re in it for the business plus status
i say i’m in it for some b+tton+up trainers
favours, i’ve done a few but not for you
so what you wanna do? what you wanna do?
so throw your emotions in the motherf+cking air
just say the word, i’ll go and punch the c+nt who cut your hair
your mate’s mates and mates mate of a mate, but wait
why’d you raise it if it ain’t a debate?
you bl++dy basic bait waste of a break
face the mistake and imitate the faces you hate
i skate within a state of brain pain and escape
and pour liquor down my face like it’s a pavement of graves
mates, i’ll be amazed if i was paid to behave
and spend every last penny on a steak and a blade

- lunar c lyrics

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