9 Outta 9

(album: S.C.O.T. - 2013)

My raps is a note that's a hundred letters
Grew up way different so the cunts won't get it
While you was at school you was trying to pass lots
Rates was showing me how to weigh up a half oz
My first choof I was 12 years old
Felt hooked since then guess the world is cold
Tip of the ice berg, tip of the ice berg
Will be when the ice burns thinking back I turned
16 when I lit the pipe with boobs at a bus stop round Christmas night
Back then shit you see the crystal move
Uneducated like it was the shit to do
I turned into a rap star proved them wrong
I ain't need another pipe give me the doob or bong
Imma move along call me the business man
Cause I'm busy no rest that's a business plan

Move on I'm the shinning bit, rhyming sick
Time tick you can ride the dick
Right tits, nice hips and she grinding it
9 hits outta 9 when my lines are spit
Move on I'm the shinning bit, rhyming sick
Time tick you can ride the dick
Right tits, nice hips and she grinding it
9 hits outta 9 when my lines are spit

Break down on the shit I say
I got a different fucking vibe for every single day
We won't say what we don't need nah
Eyes half closed you can blame the codeine brah
Back on my king shit, rap like a king shit
Wonder why they call me king, you hearing what a king is
Big boss hustle, hustle the music
And just like a dealer my customers abuse it
Word play with a metaphor
I still root rap that's what I met if for
Kiss the ring bitch, its the hand of a boss
Beef shit these days, shit I dare them to cross
Need it to sell I'm the one you still come after
You oh so making money cos I'm numb with a gun
On a hoodie that was worn by the Kerser one
If Kerser didn't rock the hoodie probably would of sold none
Its all up

Move on I'm the shinning bit, rhyming sick
Time tick you can ride the dick
Right tits, nice hips and she grinding it
9 hits outta 9 when my lines are spit
Move on I'm the shinning bit, rhyming sick
Time tick you can ride the dick
Right tits, nice hips and she grinding it
9 hits outta 9 when my lines are spit

Hot car without the number plates
On the run for another fucking hundred days
My raps in ya brain, pull ya back out ya frame
Now you gasping in pain I'm attacking the game
This rap shit here in Oz is mine
If you want beef sweet, but not with rhymes
Lets handle it the street way, send ya boys
Come back beat up you were pretender boy
Let me tell you what's dangerous and fun
Rates with a gun
Mind set dangerous when I write like this
The flows switching up like the lights on pigs
Heal me rip this shit you should see me live
Ya sets so dirty gotta clean my eyes
Fresh shit yeah ya know where to find it
Head to the stores, find Kers and buy it

Move on I'm the shinning bit, rhyming sick
Time tick you can ride the dick
Right tits, nice hips and she grinding it
9 hits outta 9 when my lines are spit
Move on I'm the shinning bit, rhyming sick
Time tick you can ride the dick
Right tits, nice hips and she grinding it
9 hits outta 9 when my lines are spit