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    Dirty Dikestar
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    (Too many of them steep fuckin steps)
    Steep fucking steps

    What? This is life mate try make it easier
    I paint my eyeballs a light shade of sepia
    I wake at nightfall five days a week
    And I'm shite faced
    My minds all sideways
    I'm creeping at my pace
    As white chalk lines frame the scene of the crime wave
    Believing that time waits for each of yours blind faith
    If your piece of the pie's tastin' sweeter than mine
    Mate, I'll eat you as live bait!
    'Cos I tried to bust rough when I was needia
    But never held it down like I suffered with bulemia
    And now I'm fucking with a team full of freaks
    And we're soon to be a feast for the scum suckin' media
    Dumb fuck
    Your season of dumb luck is reaching a slump son
    I mean it, I'm pumped up and greedier for fresh meat
    I'm neck deep in the next beat
    Head feenin' to get lean
    Your featureless men speak as real as a wet dream
    Its reek on your bed sheets
    Asleep in the the steamiest sex scenes
    My pen speaks for the people that get me
    You get me ya pricks?
    I'm just sweeping your mess clean
    So peace to Dirty Dike and Hieronymus Bosh
    Mr Key turns inside every lock that you got!
    So what-what? What what
    Cause I see in sepia
    Deep-deep in sepia
    And I'ma stay creepier
    Creepier!

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    Creepier!
    Creepier than a meeting with Mr. A
    Jam Baxter, Mr. Key and a bit of James
    That's me and we bring the vicious pain
    A complete waste like a needle that's missed the vein
    So take a seat in my picture frame
    As we flicker straight images
    And speak in a bitter state
    Pissed again and my room is a grubby mess
    Stuck in debt stress
    And there's too many fucking steps!
    I'm fucked up in bed late with my eyes closed
    Soaking in my slow life of live shows
    But Dike knows it's a matter of time
    Cause dope rhymes flow fatter than a map in the sky
    Check it
    There's no hope till I happen to find
    Guys joke with the habit of attacking a mic
    My mind opens and widens with every line spoken
    In silence I grow, stiff inside I lie frozen
    I say "Hi" with a kiss when I've woken
    Wishing my life will exist when I'm broken
    Pisshead spokesman
    Lenses in sepia
    Creep through my deep-blue speech till I'm sleepier

    I've got beef and never leave it alone
    I vivisect rippers ripping fresh meat from the bone
    SMB!
    CP [?] the throne
    In sepia, Key's a freak, in a league of his own
    Creeping alone, deep in the sepia tone
    To reach in a peak I speak till your speakers are blown
    And police on the phone are telling me to shut the fuck up!
    Keep on your toes or you're coming unstuck
    That's, tough luck like scag in a pubfight
    Scabs on my pus dried up from a rough night
    Snuff white in a lab full of dustmites
    Rags on the fuck mic
    Rap till it bust tight
    Shook, still racking my brains
    As the crabs in my guts [?] ravenous pains
    Back in the days
    I rapped like I'm shackled in chains
    Now I'm bad like a tramp putting scag in his veins
    That's just a matter of a pattern of phrase
    As the rats rampage in this cancerous age
    I'm bad taste, mate, fuck keeping it crisp
    I'm cheap like deep-fried pieces of shit!
    So peace to Daze, Jam Backer and Bosh
    And Dirty Dike'll ride any slapper you've got
    So what-what

    Song details

    Composition: Dirty Dike

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