The smooth trooper, orange eye, juice loosener
Who moves to the gutter beat, fruit looper
Juice Crew more Slipknot than Britpop
Nine-man, Wu-Tang, strongest in hip-hop
Paint a picture as my eternal sound updates
Fuck fakes, grab the mic off you and bust eight
Bars aimed straight into the stratosphere
That live show you're selling is dead, you should be glad I'm here
Return to the story to its original glory
Became mentally, spiritually and physically boring
Instead of asking how many points isn't he scoring
Why don't we focus on the accolades that's given me warrior
Attributes in spades, consistently misbehaved
I was floating through it while you just missed the wave
Hi my name is Mr. Save a Spliff for Dave
He's coming back from work and ant had a hit for days
Shit for brains with persistent shame
Must have loaded up a different game with a pre-existing save
My fifty plays irrelevant to the big display
Sorry I don't know what came over me, it's just today
Slap your camera out your hand kid, what?
If you think I'm paying to get it replaced, get fucked
You aren't snapping my pic just to gain a quick buck
Now get your sen off and get your Canon fixed up
Still need to stay sharp when you're having fun with it
Still see me playing darts and I don't need to mumble it
Approaching projects can be quite humbling
But I switch to another concept after a month of it
Beats is beautiful and the graphics is great
Switched on my computer to create a classic today
Dropboxed to Kev la Kat who mixed and mastered the tape
Sent the email at seven and then I'm grafting at eight
Not in my record collection to my recollection
I can pinpoint the exact moment I achieved perfection
It was 12:04, 6th June, 1997
Physical born and came forth to meet my brethren
It's Mister Guymer, as seen on Prick Adviser
If my name ain't on it, you better fix the flyer
Get on with your life, stay away, make the distance higher
I won't give in, provide attention that this bitch desires
Marx how you shine so bright on these beats?
You never seem to stop I bet you get no sleep
You're right, to add to that I don't eat
Get a year's work done in an average, slow week
The spirit of an underdog, runt of the litter
While dudes sit at their keyboards, acting all bitter
Mama didn't raise no quitter
And she didn't raise a bitch who cries about it on Twitter
I'm blowing raspberries if you think you're mad scary
Forever legendary, outwit any adversary
On the contrary, I don't relate to the commentary
You would tell me about issues with my pituitary?
Rome wasn't built in a day, you're mad impatient
Take it back to the days where we would rap in basements
And if you're using rap as a fashion statement
I'm coming after you, the hip-hop Patrick Bateman