[Chester P Hackenbush] Any competition finish quick like a brody This parocat rapper spells set backs to phonies I mosy through my art form all cosy and warm My cries electrocute the skies like a lightning storm With moon child poetry, I don't rain I monsoon And in this high noon rebellion I'm totally cartoon This is freaky animation, man the stations For a brain tax, tangible levels of creations Look back from a space age history I'm like a cosmic gypsy, from black holes to red dwarfs I'm known for crushing pip squeaks Who talk that familiar talk but ain't cutting it Deeps how I cut, I beam you up to my mothership I got time on my hands and dirt under my fingernails [Farma Giles] From grabbing dirty tricks and gathering street tales Many follow the bear, I walk the ways of explorers Some heads got bypassed trying hard to ignore us Individ Robustus, strong solo Moves silent on your promos Removing sapiens from your homos I'll derange your feelings like Silasiben fungis Farma's hawkeye the slayer Fork tongue destroyer Slain the warrior, holy war sagas, rap related war starters So get ready for your orders The final chapter inciting flames to wrap around your stature Mess with a decade like Thatcher in the 80s [Chorus x2: Chester P Hackenbush] I'm a space man type, urban cowboy perisher Word consuming voice box leveller I'm the vox populi plus the one man burial MUD Fam, Bury Crew one step ahead of you [Farma Giles] Catch a banger word rapper explosive Like Joseph's technicoloured coat that he posed in I suddenly have full bloom, I rose to cris' anthems Played by boys and girls like 'We Are The Champions' This is my piece, a soundscape plus visual backing I'm attacking with force in all areas that you lack in Farma fortified aspects represents me alone Skill packer rapper gold diction, iron bones Body's damaged words savaged, hiding feelings in holes My pole position left skidmarks in your ho Tombstone sideburns, concrete hairstyles Absorbing stone faces of statues of Farma Giles [Chester P Hackenbush] And you can watch us fathering a million offsprings In this orgy of construction, who's the stud running tings? Speaking splang that you can't dopplegang, too unique Off time from the mouths of many minds, I speak To those running blind in search of what I definitely own There's no shares in what's mine so take your sorry self home And go to work, on something you created yourself Or go to dirt, my twelth's 'n' five, that's where my fires born Via N5 worldwide is where I get my corn I'm feeding from a field of form packed to the borderline Knowing that I've got to stuff my face because we're short of time Although there's no expiry date on none of my lyrics They're best before the end, also known as the finish [Chorus x2]
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Copy to Clipboard: [Chester P Hackenbush] Any competition finish quick like a brody This parocat rapper spells set backs to phonies I mosy through my art form all cosy and warm My cries electrocute the skies like a lightning storm With moon child poetry, I don't rain I monsoon And in this high noon rebellion I'm totally cartoon This is freaky animation, man the stations For a brain tax, tangible levels of creations Look back from a space age history I'm like a cosmic gypsy, from black holes to red dwarfs I'm known for crushing pip squeaks Who talk that familiar talk but ain't cutting it Deeps how I cut, I beam you up to my mothership I got time on my hands and dirt under my fingernails [Farma Giles] From grabbing dirty tricks and gathering street tales Many follow the bear, I walk the ways of explorers Some heads got bypassed trying hard to ignore us Individ Robustus, strong solo Moves silent on your promos Removing sapiens from your homos I'll derange your feelings like Silasiben fungis Farma's hawkeye the slayer Fork tongue destroyer Slain the warrior, holy war sagas, rap related war starters So get ready for your orders The final chapter inciting flames to wrap around your stature Mess with a decade like Thatcher in the 80s [Chorus x2: Chester P Hackenbush] I'm a space man type, urban cowboy perisher Word consuming voice box leveller I'm the vox populi plus the one man burial MUD Fam, Bury Crew one step ahead of you [Farma Giles] Catch a banger word rapper explosive Like Joseph's technicoloured coat that he posed in I suddenly have full bloom, I rose to cris' anthems Played by boys and girls like 'We Are The Champions' This is my piece, a soundscape plus visual backing I'm attacking with force in all areas that you lack in Farma fortified aspects represents me alone Skill packer rapper gold diction, iron bones Body's damaged words savaged, hiding feelings in holes My pole position left skidmarks in your ho Tombstone sideburns, concrete hairstyles Absorbing stone faces of statues of Farma Giles [Chester P Hackenbush] And you can watch us fathering a million offsprings In this orgy of construction, who's the stud running tings? Speaking splang that you can't dopplegang, too unique Off time from the mouths of many minds, I speak To those running blind in search of what I definitely own There's no shares in what's mine so take your sorry self home And go to work, on something you created yourself Or go to dirt, my twelth's 'n' five, that's where my fires born Via N5 worldwide is where I get my corn I'm feeding from a field of form packed to the borderline Knowing that I've got to stuff my face because we're short of time Although there's no expiry date on none of my lyrics They're best before the end, also known as the finish [Chorus x2]
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