Westy - Level (Dylan Brewer Reply) lyrics

[Intro] Yo, Shelton yeah, reply to Dyl Brewer f**ing Martian-head Shout out my LOE, man Jack on cam, BG Media Yo, shout out CallyMan, Barky, Bobo Ricko, Kirky, Shauny Check, yo (Nah nah nah nah, Westy) Hey Dylan, all you do is chat sh** Say I've got black teeth and I s**ed on dick And my mum is a snitch, yeah you're taking the piss I be taking this kid to his grave real quick He ain't ready for this, he's a feminine b**h Your flow is sh**, I'll be deading him quick Is it true you got raped as a kid You got raped as a kid '013, you smashed my window Now you're trying to stay that you dropped my big bro Why're you chatting sh**, bro? That's funny, that yellowish skin tone We all know that it's you that gives deepthroat Dylan looks like he's got chemo'd Something from a freak show He knows that I've got a deep flow He'll get murked any day of the week, bro You shag minors, yeah you're a paedo It's a reload You shag minors, yeah you're a paedo Dirty ba*tard, such a madness You can send but in a clash you ain't lasting Found bags of weed in my garden Never got a chance to thank him He wasn't treading that, fam, it was hanging Home grown that Dylan was slanging Why're you sending shots, thinking you're the champion Guess what? Your shots ain't landing Chat your sh** about Ryan and Callum No you never banged him You never banged him, are you daft? You ain't a match for a complete spaz That is a fact You got jokes but no you can't rap The size of your head is mad, how far is your hairline back You got a long neck looking like a giraffe You beat me on grime, are you mad? You must be smoking crack Dylan's been smoking crack You put it onto onto Callum, got smacked What a daft twat I don't want to hear you send back, it's the end, that's that Yo, f** off to Scotland Your bars are dead, I bet you're going to flop soon Go hide away in your box room, you're a lost dude You ain't got food Can't sell weed 'cause bare man knock you You're just a fiend It's fine as you're onto Get a roundhouse like kung fu Who you trying to talk to when you do is talk poo Don't know anyone that rates you Murk you on my own, it ain't going to take two You got the same shaped head as a grapefruit Hey Brew you know I don't rate you You're just a fake dude That's why your exes played you Think you're a mad cat? I'm a sabretooth You chat pure gas! I say the truth You ain't making moves It's blatant to see you're a pagan too You got bare man hating you You're getting smoked like I'm blazing a zoot Every other week I've been making a tune You're just a hating goon How can you call me a tramp I live in a 5-bedroom house T-ends on my feet, new Lacoste pants Ps in the bank, so Brewer shut up with your rants Your flow's off-beat, it's wa*k You little skank, you dance Or get blown up something like France f** you, Dyl!