I got a problem with bullshit and politic'n

If there's a war going on outside sunny, said he chillin'

Rappers is happy to hop on a dick for a dollar

While I drop it hotter, they gotta cop it, shit's proper

Fuck the brag when it's self-evident

I'm feeling at home at the sound of impeach the president

Drunk veteran smelling like piddle and rummy

While I'm slapping them bitches with big sunnies

Pedal meet to divas, eagle spread eager

Peace out, the wingspan's lethal

You can ask Acca Dacca, she probably had a jack up her sleeve

And I don't need that shit neither

So ya plan need be plan b, cause ay

First off you fucked with the family

But you already know it so it

Ain't no point in keep going





It's Pegz and Funkoars on set

Nothing needs to be said

Put em up like Knockout Ned

Cause we're block to block killin' it

Block to block killin' it

Jase on the beat so we're block to block killin' it





That's like Vents, one verses twenty cops

Corrupt politicians and self-righteous demigods

With the greatest hits since brekkie bongs

And King's Cross hookers with fishnet leggings on

Sketchy Hons, one of rapping's finest

Walking the red carpet with a pack of lions

Female fans flashing their privates like

Janet Jackson and Axle Whitehead

It's the life of a rap star, driving a jaguar

Hide in the mansion, dining on caviar

Smile for the camera, fire the manager

All in one breath like Trials with the stamina

Don't believe the hype, it's not luxury jets

It's not penthouse suites, it's bunking in beds

Fucking with Ses, end up on a current affair

With a dozen baby mommas lining up for a cheque









It's the return of the motherfucking Honson man

I get blazed with Pegz, til I lost it, damn

I still use my cd, to try to cop blowjobs

Like I gave Tony Montana my CV, Hons

Still ripping it, while I'm steady as empty

As that pocket you've been pissing in, listen in

Now you already met the family

Mr Trials jacking breaks at knifepoint life Pammi Lee's mammaries

So understandably, I don't need to wear a shirt that's pastel to try to mack girls

As soon as the plane hits the tarmac

My game's on point, I can't miss like a car rack

You don't wanna start that shit, you ain't I'll

You're a hypochondriac with a bad limp, slam this

In ya car til the speakers fucking haemorrhage

Jase on the boards with dirty Oars and Pegasus









Ay, Ay, Ay

Fuck ya flow, find me at the neighbour's home

Waiting for the water to flow, so I can go and steal ya soap

See I'm broke, no bullshit, if broke was bullshit

I'd be buried knee deep, dressed red in a bull pit

I'm fucked financially, I don't play it up to be dope

For real I've gots to save up to be broke

I made a few beats on a couple big sellers

Spent the funds getting drunk on enough to fill a big cellar

Hey big fella, would you mind moving out the way?

Ask a hill what the fuck you think a mountain say

I'm not moving from a bar stool unless a girl that passed school

But looks like she didn't wants to pass through

They say booze kills the brain cells

But umm, uh, umm, ay fuck it ay

What if I make bail? I'm bad news

Like Miss Macro hearing a rap flow thinking she can too