Against The Grain Fliptrix

(Verse 1)

I never stutter, lie or mutter
This my bread and butter
Beats straight gutter
Like the lungs on a paint huffer
Fuck the coppers, I never wanna get clocked
Like fake dollars
Need a fishing hat, Shades and acres of forest
So I can get away with burying their office
Maybe I might jack a uniform, go out as Sergeant Chronic
And go around
Give the drugs back they've stolen from us
Roll to the Queens, knick her jewels and start playing conkers
I rap for opposite of sheeple man
I pay you homage
Fuck the time and the clock and what's on it
My hands move faster
As I spit bars, they're metal objects
The way your cranium gets shattered when I spray it onwards
Unlike the girls with their fake tans spraying orange
My bars resonate with nature cause I made them from it
Sound waves painting pictures out of sacred knowledge
I stay awake when I dream
You know my state is conscious
Unlike the guy laying in the alley in his vomit
I'm ballied up in my bedroom hanging like my bollocks
I shake the ground
Like the shock waves
Reverberating octaves
Top of the stage
Is where my gob's placed