Dabbla - Eggs lyrics

[Verse 1: Jam Baxter] If a clown can bake a pie full of flies in his house today And sell slimy slices for a fiver to a crowd of apes Then I can fry an egg and call it God if I want to Sunny side down, trodden, scoff it like its mange tout Puke that straight up and shot it like a nine bar Scoop the remains up and flog it like it's fine art It's all in the name son, it's all just the same young sir Just words I'm contorting to shapes Some days seem stranger than fiction can ever be Especially when I've been yammin' trips with my breakfast tea So I was like boom, what's with the snake skin? Better keep schtum, the Gods are deflating That shoe for the mountains, views are astounding Loose in the cloud where the monsters are waiting Dead flesh fading, what's that curling around my spine like hot crack burning Swamp rat vermin emerging again Better boot out now to return to the end, like rah What a super-stellar par View forever shrink into a single second Misdirect 'em through the centre Futures never happen like the maggots might like 'em to One day you're chewing wounds the next that's what you're obliged to do If I were you I wouldn't take it Burn your allegiance, lie to their faces Gather that up, slappin' that sludge on the skyline Look man's finally made it, high rise mazes What's that snaking around his tongue better watch man changing Combat training, dead man dancing Squash that craving, let's get marching [Verse 2: Dabbla] It's like my girl's parallel parking sh**'s never gonna fit so I squeeze in Release from the belly of the beast I be banging on my chest and you'd best to believe it Swinging from the rooftop baby Hanging out on the porch all evening Bangin' on a big fat hootenanny With a granny in the lap, lean all up in the cup like (Where?) Smoke all in the (Air) That's the way I'm staying Listen what I'm saying, day in day out we ain't playing They should weigh their options while they got em or get took apart Man ain't got no business looking hard you little p**yclart All I wanna do is reel these bars off Philly B on the beat man I pull it up And you'd better be ready for the blast off Me and Jam on the ting we put it up So high I'll be laughing my a** off Looking down on the Earth like (is it?) With a broke leg trying to get it cast off Plus you don't wanna blink you'll (miss it) My demographic is ecstasy mixed with acid And a bit of psilocybin all crammed in one tablet Raid your drinks cabinet, steal your mum's jam jar Go out on a drug-fueled frenzy filled with anger Blame it on grandpa, you know what he's like Easy with a bag of weezy, sleazy on the peace pipe Freezing on the beats like, they call it cold fronts Stacking so much paper mate should get yourself a hole punch And a bag of golf clubs Long range when I get my pace on Now they're saying to get my skates on What I'm saying is I care not for some paper with an old lady's face on Straight up, let me deal with the ting though Wagwaan gringo chuckin' motherf**ers out the window Rappers can't deal with the lingo Pulling out bars like nobody's business, k**ing MC's on the daily Make a pig's ear with a dog's dinner when I come through Make your whole crew go crazy Make your old dear have a blue baby It's the LDZ fam, look it up And you don't wanna see my zoot turn shady So it's back to the book now, cook it up [Verse 3: Jam Baxter] Yeah, back to the book Next chapter, land of the crooks Trapped in the woods, I'm ascending Bredren, who's that gremlin stamping his foot, look Watch and burn, get out the way man we want 'em first All of the intricacies in my world all merge into one long constant verse Slapped by a demon, I'm so high I can actually see them It's angling season, hook line sinker I got them, now I gotta actually eat them So when I say that blind faith is a b**h Next man think I'm taking the piss So I'ma just sit back shaking and sh**, when really All I wanna say to 'em is If a clown can bake a pie full of vibes in his house today And sell the grimmest ones for fifty nugs to a crowd of snakes Then we can fry some eggs and call 'em gods if we want to And serve 'em with a crown of thorns, swimming in some fondue