Lunch Bars

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Nerve, Skrub, Nerve & Skrub] Ayo, hush, son (Ssh), or get the fuck up Catch me in the back of the club; I'm putting my ones up A numbnut bangin' my track in the back of dump trucks Like "Wassup?" Screws up in my cap like I'm a Munster Yo, fuck a punter in the crowd, catch me at the pokie, stat 'Cause it's a gamble for these rappers if they think they dope on tracks Without a feature, you ain't gettin' on my flow, son 'Cause who said you were dope… no one I'd be lyin' if I said I wasn't in it for the moolah Get the crowd like ooh-rah, yeah, only spat a two bar But the shit was too hard, Kill it like I'm on a spree Atop the scenе, plotting schemes like a monarchy Yo, thе Slim Shady look-alike, that high voice wannabe Got them gold fingers, James Bond it like I'm Connery I don't wanna see the schemes that you've written (Nah) You ain't married to the game, so I can't fuck with you like Jud'ism Yeah, soundin' like a yank, hmm, kinda wack, man You jumpin' in the cypher like T—T—T—TeamBackpack Hey, yo, scratch that, I put skinny crackers on the map, lad Your trap rap's toxic, catch me rocking a hazmat You think your life just to party? Then watch me crash that Rocking up in matte black with my pen and pad packed Crowd going "bap bap", like Wombat when I drop raps Yo, and just like him, you best believe I'm where the bongs at Ayy, clock that, I'm always on track when I work the whip Murkin' cliques when I turn a spliff to a verse that's sick I'm wondering how many rappers in my furnace fits (All of 'em) 'Cause I burn 'em quick till they turnin' crisp I murder kids if I haven't seen 'em earn a stripe 'Cause I con rad rappers with the way I murder mics Represent, the ugly punk with a dirty mind With a face that makes girls I like wanna turn to dykes [Verse 2: Nerve, Skrub] Yo, we party and then we bullshit Say you pack a gat, never seen you pull it I smack 'em back to school, kid, smashin' tracks, back-to-back classic raps Lad, you should practise that, matter fact catch a slap It's the action packed brainiac with the magic pad Think your rappin's fat, man, I'm natural as my habitat Yeah, I got you backtrackin' like a map On some Manny Pac' when I smack a cat till he's flashing back Like acid tabs, got you trippin' when I spit a verse I'm sick with words, always leave 'em in a clinic, burnt Tell me go to hell, nah, I'll bring the whole thing to Earth 'Cause these other rappers got no drive, 'less they're in a hearse Think you're ill with verbs, 'cause you're a drill rapper? I could rap overdosed on smack but you're still wacker Pill packer on some dumb type rap Your album ain't a hit, son, where the punch lines at? Yeah, I heard your shit, didn't understand one line spat So if you're thinkin' 'bout dissin' better run right back This ain't just some hype track, we stay real on the regular Say what you want, but you still ain't impressing us We steez it up, greasy punks that never eat enough 'Cause every MC we see they flee or maybe been our lunch For this past year on every single day, week, and month So soon there's gonna be no more rappers left in the scene but us Trust, 'cause you know it's Nerve, the verbal murderer Servin' up words for the purpose of murkin' these herbs with a burner You learnt from the worst; I serve a sermon in a fervent verse Leavin' nerds perturbed and then return with a curse for the Earth Ugh, tell 'em, right now it's too easy So catch me put the scene in a box like Houdini