The Last Skeptik - Remember lyrics

[Verse 1: Nico Lindsay] Yo, remember the years that was wasted? Now trying to exchange all the laziness for payslips Finesse a little, take this, flavour sweet like milkshake Before I sip, shake this, now back to battle with the ages Still seek greatness, even if I reach, seek greater Each track, a new take's the undertaker Beat meat, vapour, girls love sheets, undertake her Beep, beep, bounce and I'm out still Flow got a mad chill, sneezing on, staying static I won't back it, breezing on, speaking on an old me I dislike Meaning gone, bring it back, many times we all wish That time, we could spin it back, regrets, get rid of that But do more, resist the fact, act now To make a new memory and grip on that, sick of all the stalling You're in control so better figure that out, alone, gotta stand out Codename Lin and Sith Trim, know the damn sound [Verse 2: Trim] Yo, it's on the tip of my tongue, how do I address this Without going over how many kids Rolf allegedly molested? It's the genie with no lamp and only granting man one d**h wish While they claim they're going H•A•M but can't write to a beat produced by Skeptik There is no chill, f** a Netflix Even if Nico gave 'em a brush, they couldn't paint or sketch this Shouts to the constipated MCs That so scared of my next sh**, they're ga**ing to flies And hope the smell hasn't manifested And I ain't gouged out the eyes of the guys That you guys call MCs, ha, nah Let's get it right, this game's mine and I haven't left it Squalouring time on the corner acting like I am repping E14, I'm on a next ting Wait, a neck-next ting, reckless I can't fade cause I ain't that kind of Trim I can't fade cause I ain't that kind of Trim, wait, did you get this? [Verse 3: Funk Butcher] I know cats that's robbing dogs, no whip it, Jiminy Cricket I bat man straight out of stands, cover your wickets Checked it, so solid, so horrid, I wreck this For the kids on the corners of blocks, cover your necklace Wu-Tang said protect this, hold tight Skeptik We go sick, nauseous noise, you go septic Nah, collecting MCs for Ps, we don't sleep [?] Hadouken missed you, but you caught the leg sweep Man like Butch on the rap flow, plateau your rap glow Red light your game for fame like your typos It's Butch, yeah, I'm spitting for the hell of it The devil spit, so I gotta push 'em from the precipice Skeptik, did I take the piss?