Lyrics

[Verse 1: Orifice Vulgatron] Yo, I'd rinse you out if I was feeling under the weather You're like a rapper with no teeth with a one-legged selector I'm steppin' a selection of very heavily dreaded bredders Spend every next second defending never-ending agendas Send you to the back of the class and then detention Likkle fassy rapper you're blown to the [?] pretension Mention a single word and you get burned at the stake I'll put a hole in out your neck with the head of a fuckin' rake My spit rinses out [?] [?] murder and rape The sort to turn a bird over, squirt sperm in her face Couldn't give a rat's arse if she was thirty or eight Straight spit the sickest single from the dirtiest race Blaze crack, spliffs, late at the terminal gate Spit flows more disturbed 'em n' birds' turds on the plate Virgins are great, which bitch is first in for shakes? You're heading for big trouble like a fat bitch in skates [Chorus] I'm on a heavy level like several parallelogramz Anything that moves, submarines and street trams Got contacts with green mans that drive illy speedy vans My shit gets delivered with no jams like trans-ams On the mic I've got the participle intergalactical scans Your shit's hypocritical like a Muslim that eats bare hams I leave you feeling boozed like toy skaters taking bait smacks Operation's tighter than clothes worn by Van Damme [Verse 2: Orifice Vulgatron] Yo, I'm scoldin' br'ers, large and pissed off like swollen polar bears Impatiently hopin' there's a way out of this twisted kitchen of misery My only hope is to rely frozen still by lyrical [?] I physically implement the elementary rules of the game Never delegate responsibility so the lessers can claim fame My sick mind is riddled with legions of unspeakable thoughts My mic is the bat that beats you down in speech sports I might be reasonably short but I continue to stand tall Thought you little fuck-ups would slide but I found them all Staring at me in the face like some crazy man with beef Running your pussy mouth off when you run halfway down the street You best look down at your feet I'm humbling mumbling bumbaclaats If a [?] ask me to rumble then I'm formally dumping the tart I jump on the chart, started to rock Top of The Pops Killed off security, broke the cock of a cop Property opted not to stop until the lot of them drop, clop The [?] trying to bop so I sopped the pig in the chops [Chorus] I'm on a heavy level like several parallelogramz Anything that moves, submarines and street trams Got contacts with green mans that drive illy speedy vans My shit gets delivered with no jams like trans-ams On the mic I've got the participle intergalactical scans Your shit's hypocritical like a Muslim that eats bare hams I leave you feeling boozed like toy skaters taking bait smacks Operation's tighter than clothes worn by Van Damme [Verse 3: Orifice Vulgatron] Fuck the intermission, I leave you wishing you took a piss Non-stop rhyming, delightfully spiteful, I'm Orifice Vulgatron Two-turn, lyric heavy like big truck Ya acting the great fuck, but ya suck the dick and drink the thick buck Loud-mouth wrangler rose ranging with [?] stranglers Scanning from all angles, those mans will ravage a gang Of your fixed-theory fuckers' faces for fun on a regular basis Whilst maintaining a regular state of equilibrium like homeostasis Come, flex your scientific reverence, collect your evidence My freaky friends are forensics will certainly see to your severance Think you're kind of sick because you've written a rhyme Fuck, you're tripping up on stage, spitting out the same line [?] Focus on free-form function of rhyme activity My mind finds freedom flowing fluently on forensic frequencies Your lame game, play shameful, I'm heinous, you can't tame me Look who left the sable, hence the fame claim, but I'm namely [Chorus] I'm on a heavy level like several parallelogramz Anything that moves, submarines and street trams Got contacts with green mans that drive illy speedy vans My shit gets delivered with no jams like trans-ams On the mic I've got the participle intergalactical scans Your shit's hypocritical like a Muslim that eats bare hams I leave you feeling boozed like toy skaters taking bait smacks Operation's tighter than clothes worn by Van Damme