(Rap intro)

I’m done gettn fukd in the head

With an astronomically-sized

Digitised c*%*k…

Bring me a sound engineer 

Someone with good ears

A technician to fix my gear

A couple of fans n real cheers

Yeah I want the world to hear

What’s been up in the last ten years 

Cause running from the money

Means I’m running outta time 

As for the media it’s a rainbow mess

Scribbles n graffitiia 

Reflect my state of mind

Gimme the best and I’ll do the rest 

A producer too cause that’s the glue

Gimme a brand I earned that badge 

I do believe loyalty deserves royalties

I’ll dish it out loud n make em proud

Technics, Native Instruments

Traktor n Hello Kitty

Honda accord you shared my journey

(I want Goldie back but a Jazz’ll do)

Converse walked me through the blue

(JDRF I’m right behind ya)

And while we’re at it a manager too

Of course I’m gonna need a lawyer

Yeah that’s a no-brainer

Bring it the fuk on

So I can write the next song …

(Verse)

All I want is perfection but all I get is rejection of what I’m projecting

It feels like regression a three-dimensional lesson served up as a lemon

Back in the day there’s no way you’d win the lot without the zing

And not without that invisible thing laced into diamond wings

Now it’s big lips n counterfeit manuscripts

As for the fashion industry well that’s a new rap for another day

I’m living proof of disparity all I want is clarity but can’t even score charity

Yeah I’m tired of singularity I need a team to marry me

I’d wear that king bling on my finger forever but where are ya?

I can’t even score one click not even a wet-faced dog lick

As for all the fake shit yeah the tik tok soft dick mimicking

Always torn between the mystic munching at the bit like a misfit

What’s the world gonna make of this hissy fit splattered over zero fans

Startn to feel like I got my talent from the bottom of a cereal packet

A tweety bird slammed into defeat rockn centre court without a racquet

Been doing this such a long time it’s a crime of misaligned

Is anyone out there or are you too blind is it that friggn hard to find

Stopped point blank guitar in the corner with guts hanging out

Lookn around at the silent sounds of the bomb I’ve left behind

Yeah it’s a long way spinning to the top down from the mess I’m in

Tryna sing the be bop with a sound so unprofessional…

Here’s to the records never produced that could’ve untied the noose

I’m so sorry mum I couldn’t save you from a million miles away

I wanted to be your saviour yeah this was gonna save ya…