Dead Players - Premium Murkage lyrics

[Dabbla] When it comes to the mic I'm a beast When they said Hip-Hop's dead I creased Do It for the love And I do it for the sheets You can go and F(beep) yourself with the beeps In it for the peace and im in it for the hype In it cos really you only get one life Should of sold out but im not that type You should know me by now what im like Can I get a whoop whoop Welcome to the warm up, form up Love the way my team just swarm up Beats get torn up Anything that's sweet like corn up All out, all in, all up, fall in Drawn up plans get hatched and drawn up Gal get whipped like walnut Twist like doorknob Manaman are sick You're not, my lots Never gonna fall of Shut up! (That's how I be like) (Repeat) [Jam Baxter] Look, I ain't stopped creasing for days Stepping out drunk in the evening rain Life in a crisp dream Skies looking pristine Set lee sipping Jim Beam on a train And we flick off the parasites Paralysed goon flying through with a bag of ice Next sket bowls up, says she's a fan of mine Next thing mans got the headboard banging like !!! Giving her the premium murkage And I ain't sure if she even deserves it Wake up walk out, storming the foreground All out war when we keep to the surface And I got it all worked out Hanging on the planet till it all burns down Teaming a re run, mans on a deep one Whole scene looking like an hors d'oeuvre now (That's how I be like) (Repeat) [Dabbla] And then I, hit em with a bar so milli Whole damn system in your car go silly Old Bill looking in the whip like hmmmm Whole click hotter than a charcoal grilly My whole city Know what the dealy is You ain't got the foggiest Flow like Phileas I'm so hideous I'm so tidy I'm so dutty, stinking! Yeah! Do it with your pistols Fingers on the bu*ton now my moneys on the pixels On another level now were coming from the crystals Images I wiggle with the joystick When I'm on the platform everybody Wyle out Get it in your system Then I put the style out Probably made the PO-PO wanna pull the file out You can smell that sh** from a mile out, Listen! (That's how I be like) (Repeat) [Jam Baxter] Its like sh**! I never smelt this much gas But pricks love jamming and the kids love fraff Two cream set k**er Dry stale bread winner Triple light head spinner Sick young brat Moving the shugs like whales in a fish bowl Fling gold shards at the skyline spit so Drink whole shots of elixir and still roll Squidging her wrist and spit that grim mould March of the unwashed son got Bunk off life in your dumb job Come cotch Deliver to the station Duck from the drug dogs Fly these skies Green eyes all bloodshot Unlock doors when this sharp tongue twists That's why the whole crews like "Rah f** this" But... (That's how I be like) (Repeat)