s. kalibre – 56 bars part 2 lyrics
when i’m spittin writtens, i’m on the top of my game
but you couldn’t f-ck 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 f-ck up!
my rhymes are like hitting paul daniels with an axe, i split wigs
i got fire in my brain that’ll smash your sh-t
sh-t’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
sn-tch 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 f-ck 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 f-ckin smash-t it
hip hops for everyone but i get jealous and unp-ssionate
steaming the open mic, barging people like a rhino
non conformist, i p-ss the deejay a square vinyl
nod my head to the other emcee even though he’s a disgrace
tell him i like his sh-t then i spud him in his face
and thats what you get for spitting like a n0b
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 f-ck you bother when your flows so shoddy
show your head to the audience to prove your a n0body
after they hear me ain’t n0body feeling what you spit
your wack not even the churchill dog gonna nod to your sh-t
your bark was pathetic and your bite wasn’t vicious
why these f-ckin rappers gotta have these death wishes
when i jump on stage, rappers be sh-ttin 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
f-ck raps about money, f-ck raps about cars
these rappers ain’t shooting straight like h0m-s-xual p-rn 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 f-cking 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 sp-ce emcee a rapper with no flows
it’s only when you’re anonomous you’re hating on the pros
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