Текст песни Filet Mignon - Dirty Dike , Jam Baxter

Jam Baxter
Is that an MC or a BLT?
I swear down, I can't tell these days, I can't tell these days...
Cause I've been spitting fridge-fresh with the full fat bars
Ever since I could spell my name, my name...
Is that an MC or a filet mignon?
I swear down, I can't tell these days, I can't tell, man...
So then rock to my CP, keeping it gutter
And the man, them that felt my pain. my pain... my pain...

Jam Baxter
Yeah, yeah, my pain, migraines are more
The sweat in that steg on the dry days of yore
The flypapers full of the lies pave the floor
And the fast King's kitchen, why waste the score?
I'm in, one of them moves fresh new tremors
In a torch-lit lab full of test tube cherubs
Is that a plump duck or an egg stew, fella says 'Who?'
She did it just to get you jealous, yeah, Yeah, yeah, they say I'm not relevant
Is that a bag of gas or a tray of hot venison?
Scrape that skeleton, swing it from the rafters
Gargling spittle as I'm picking at the carcass
Hard barbers, smothered in the mince
Waking everyday spitting blood up in my sink
Still struggling to blink with my puke glazed eyes
So, is that an MC or a huge steak pie, say why

Is that an MC or a BLT?
I swear down, I can't tell these days, I can't tell these days...
Cause I've been spitting fridge-fresh with the full fat bars
Ever since I could spell my name, my name...
Is that an MC or a filet mignon?
I swear down, I can't tell these days, I can't tell, man...
Sipping bark to my CP, keeping it gutter
And the man, them that felt my pain. my pain... my pain...

Dirty Dike
Is that an MC or a ham and egg quiche, on a platter
Scraped fresh from a bag of sex cheese
Cause I can't seem to tell what these rapper heads mean
When they're screaming in panic like they're having wet dreams
So, what happened to the scene, is it happening to me?
I feel like a tea bag flapping in the breeze
Should I kneel down or lean back
Or smack you in the teeth?
Nah, before it comes to that I think I'll pack it in and leave
Cause I've had enough of beasts when its phantom are salmon legs
Big man, smashing up their pram and they act depressed
Is that a talent or a faggot in a massive dress
Nah, that's a rapper slash scag head with a jagged edge
So, is that an MC or a fetus with claws
Or a penis that talks, that people ignore
When you speak and we yawn cause we seem to be bored
When you wet lettuce MCs are deep in your thoughts. Fuck off.

Is that an MC or a BLT?
I swear down, I can't tell these days, I can't tell these days...
Cause I've been spitting fridge-fresh with the full fat bars
Ever since I could spell my name, my name...
Is that an MC or a filet mignon?
I swear down, I can't tell these days, I can't tell, man...
Sipping bark to my CP, keeping it gutter
And the man, them that felt my pain. my pain... my pain...