Check ch check, Yo!
Real sick of hearing these pricks talk shit,
They get their throats slit,
'Cos they're talking to me like I'm thick.
An' i'm,
Real tired of all these bullshit guys,
They best go hide,
'Cos I'm looking for them on the sly.
'Cos I've,
Had it up to here,
Right up to here,
Might have to do it reservoir dogs style,
Slice off the ear,
'Cos I've,
Had enough of breddas acting tough,
Tryna get rough,
when it's obvious they ain't rough enough,


Listen...

I don't just talk the talk, I walk it,
That's why my mouth's always coming out with raw shit,
My rap style's distorted,
Like little Mo getting raped and keepin' the baby instead of getting it aborted,
Yo, I talk morbid, just to make you feel awkward,
Death's a part of life yo, you just can't ignore it,
Especially when I rip out your heart, and on my sleeve sport it,
Like it's somethin' you think precious 'cos your dead gran bought it.
I talk so foul, I talk so coarse,
I show no regret, I show no remorse,
Like a necromaniac, raping a corpse,
Up the anal passage while contracting genital warts,
My metaphors are twisted,
like that game where you gotta put the hob nob in your gob, if you're the last one to cum on the biscuit,
I'm so sadistic,
That's why I fantasise about finding my mum's ex floatin' in the bathtub with his wrists slit.

An' I'm
Real sick of hearing...

You best, ban TV if you want me to stop,
'Cos I'm so heavily influenced by the things that I watch,
It ain't just pulp fiction and reservior dogs,
It's Irreversible, Baise Moi, City of God!
It's the news on every channel when I turn on the box,
It's seeing paedophiles singing on Top Of The Pops.
Gary Glitter, Michael Jackson, what!?
On the net, Ken Bigley got his neck tek off,
That's some nasty shit and still you wonder why I'm sick,
When I see this shit and I say exactly what I think,
That's some nasty shit and still you don't ban it,
But you ban computer games, summin' round here really stinks,
What about cigarettes and alcoholic drinks,
Or the animal that died jus' so your wife could wear that Mink,
You're disgraceful, Like getting caught pissing in the sink,
Or a white girl won't suck my dick just because it's pink!

An' I'm
Real sick of hearing...

The last verse is just as bad as the first,
But compared to the second, yo, it's definitely worse,
'Cos it's about a guy getting chauffered in a hearse,
Let me do what Nas did and tell this shit in reverse,
The hearse, brings the corpse, back to the morgue,
The guy from the morgue, undresses the corpse,
Embalming fluid goes back out,
The blood goes back in,
Body goes back to hospital,
Where it comes alive again,
The paramedics walk backwards like an Irish dance,
Put the wounded man back in the ambulance,
The ambulance's engine turns back on,
And it's lights flash as the siren plays it's favourite song,
The guy goes back to the exact spot where they found him,
And the medics and all the passers by go back where they came from,
Till eventually, noone surrounds him,
And the blood pours up him, rather than down him,
The man then falls upwards, back on his feet,
Stumbles to a dark figure on the otherside of the street,
He walks into the blade, that cut his belly,
Then he holds his neck which was, bleeding already,
He removes his hand so that you can see the cut,
And as the knife undoes the slice, it closes back up,
He unsays the words he said which were "What the fuck!?",
And unscreams the scream from the first initial cut,
The the blood from his severly severed ear,
Crawls back up his cheek and slowly disappears,
As the knife all in silhouette unhacks it from the rear,
Puts the knife away after reattaching the ear,
Then walks backward through the bushes where he's just regarding nature,
Leaves the guy on the bench, I'm reading his paper,
Takes the snail he stepped on, back from it's creator,
Only to be killed again, when I fast forward this shit later,
Back in his house, now back in his bed,
He unlistens to his CD, and unbops his head,
Takes the CD out of the player, puts it back in its case,
Which has my name on the cover, along with my face,
Fast forward, there's been a murder and the police know whodunnit,
They're looking for a motive 'cos they don't know why he done it,
Sure enough it don't take that long for them to find a reason,
And they publicly state it on TV that evenin',
A couple months later, this shit gets banned,
Like it was me who put that switch in his hand,
And told him to kill that man,
Like this whole song was just some kind of sickly devised plan,
To hurt some poor cunt I dont even know,
And have never met before in my life,
If it was, whoever said "The pen is mightier than sword" was right,
And you better think twice before you step to me and pick a fight!