Dirty Dike - Filet Mignon lyrics

Hook [Jam Baxter] Is that an MC or a BLT? I swear down, I can't tell these days, [I can't tell these days...] Cause I've been spitting fridge-fresh with the full fat bars Ever since I could spell my name, [my name...] Is that an MC or a filet mignon? I swear down, I can't tell these days, [I can't tell, man...] So then rock to my CP, keeping it gutter And the man, them that felt my pain. [my pain... my pain...] Verse 1 [Jam Baxter] Yeah, yeah, my pain, migraines are more The sweat in that steg on the dry days of yore The flypapers full of the lies pave the floor And the fast King's kitchen, why waste the score? I'm in, one of them moves fresh new tremors In a torch-lit lab full of test tube cherubs Is that a plump duck or an egg stew, fella says 'Who?' She did it just to get you jealous, yeah, [Yeah...] Yeah, yeah, they say I'm not relevant Is that a bag of gas or a tray of hot venison? Scrape that skeleton, swing it from the rafters Gargling spittle as I'm picking at the carca** Hard barbers, smothered in the mince Waking everyday spitting blood up in my sink Still struggling to blink with my puke glazed eyes So, is that an MC or a huge steak pie, say why Hook [Jam Baxter] Is that an MC or a BLT? I swear down, I can't tell these days, [I can't tell these days...] Cause I've been spitting fridge-fresh with the full fat bars Ever since I could spell my name, [my name...] Is that an MC or a filet mignon? I swear down, I can't tell these days, [I can't tell, man...] Sipping bark to my CP, keeping it gutter And the man, them that felt my pain. [my pain... my pain...] Verse 2 [Dirty Dike] Is that an MC or a ham and egg quiche, on a platter Scraped fresh from a bag of s** cheese Cause I can't seem to tell what these rapper heads mean When they're screaming in panic like they're having wet dreams So, what happened to the scene, is it happening to me? I feel like a tea bag flapping in the breeze Should I kneel down or lean back Or smack you in the teeth? Nah, before it comes to that I think I'll pack it in and leave Cause I've had enough of beasts when its phantom are salmon legs Big man, smashing up their pram and they act depressed Is that a talent or a f*ggot in a ma**ive dress Nah, that's a rapper slash scag head with a jagged edge [So, is that an MC] or a fetus with claws Or a penis that talks, that people ignore When you speak and we yawn cause we seem to be bored When you wet lettuce MCs are deep in your thoughts. [f** off.] Hook [Jam Baxter] Is that an MC or a BLT? I swear down, I can't tell these days, [I can't tell these days...] Cause I've been spitting fridge-fresh with the full fat bars Ever since I could spell my name, [my name...] Is that an MC or a filet mignon? I swear down, I can't tell these days, [I can't tell, man...] Sipping bark to my CP, keeping it gutter And the man, them that felt my pain. [my pain... my pain...]