Backseat Barz

(альбом: Cyberspace And Reds - 2011)

Nein, danke

Walk into the sea with clothes on
See what I'm fucking smoking is so long
Talking all the jokes with the poking
Once wanted to inspire debate, dissent and war
To enlighten, outrage and provoke and clog up the blogosphere
But like the artist's impression of the guilty verdict
I wear the watch of a pilot and fly
In the black Range Rover hanging back 'til it's over in the back watching Boardwalk Empire
But it's a fact not phony that the tracks not pony, I'm attacked with desire and go higher
Throw everything in on an unknowing whim, before showing our cards to the stars
Like the walking wounded, they walk all moody
Mawkish dudes who are awkward or boring
It's not a bad vibe when you're glad to be alive
For every different opinion is out there, gently listening or bent on shouting
Very much doubting or concurring sternly
The eternal whirring like the world we turn on
Boxes of photos in the loft that look off
Cough in the detritus before stopping for a moment at a picture of a loved one
Sit and think memories that fill me gently, nearly
I have no position to bargain
So I don't listen to arguing
I do what I do
Value all my allies
Just in an alley by a bar's a bargain
Nearly

Walk into the sea with clothes on
See what I'm fucking smoking is so long
Talking all the jokes with the poking

In a white room with a nice plume
Night fumes
I'm quite new to this
Light a candle
Fight the angle
Bought a new car and then pranged it
Used to play a dudes heart
Haven't got a clue heart

Bob Hoskin's boss posture
Upset he lost the Oscar
For Mona Lisa, lonely geezer, when you're hot they want ya
Like you're a cock they block ya
Knocked down, ginger hustle, whisk the game, you're at the door, yeah they gotta knock ya
I am not a doctor, but I know what sick is
Flows and lyrics, oh so vivid, like a vocal image
We go in with 12 ends yeah we overdid it
I went in so raw I should go to clinic
To go get checked, Axel Foley of sex
I'm too bad, life drags his polio legs
But I never block heads, I can only respect, the hard grind above us has suffered when the goal is success
Loudmouth, my cerebral
Thoughts be kind of peaceful
More be nice than evil
For the rights of people
More be guys deceitful
Talk with lies to cheat you
Cross double acts
Morecambe Wise and leave you
To heed my warning talking of perceived threats
Let them kill joy like Kilroy, that would be dead
I don't smoke at all, it's known to all I'm not a weed head
It does nothing for me. That's what she said
Crude innuendo, I might laugh
On my mood it depends though, I write bars
While you dudes play Nintendo, or Xbox
Guess what the answer is? Yes what
With shadows I chess box and pianos I eclipsed
Watch them played out I stay loud until my breath stops
Some say I've got a filthy mouth, so? F off
Until I clean up my act as well as my desktop
Just let me get the stress that is on my chest off
'Cause my head's a mess like Joleon Lescott
Some police are pricks only on let's stop
Some g's still bitch only on let's what
I prefer the latter, but I return to ladders
But because of problems, I've been hurt by adders
Snakes in the grass, won't refer to rappers'
Names in my bars, I'm alert to matters
Getting out of hand like slippery soap
Trying to keep a grip, no prison cheap jokes
'Cause art's a reflection, can mirror these books
Lyrically I'm visibly killing it though
With Skinner in tow, mean feat feeling the flow
I'm an East London artist and I'm still in the Stow (Waltham, Waltham)