lirik lagu jay-k47 - flying pigs
f~ck a pub garden, i’m a clever wrong’n, weapon dropper
chatted to a stunner after selling her some bella donna
poured a bit of stella on her, running out of henny for her
she called the f~cking filth, why the f~ck’d i ever bother
catch me if you can’t, nah, check the choppers
pigs will fly when the feds are in their helicopters
periodic table for your rep and course i’ll spell it copper~
~n ~t ~s (c~nts) ~ your respеct’s still on special offer
i’m a stupid pr~ck but i’m bettеr than you could endorse
better than it’s payday and betting on the bookie’s horse
heavier than hookah straws with heroin they put in yours
fingers in the pies like a leper on a cooking course
fellas you ain’t shook, of course, the slight quake’s even better
must be my magnitude i rap with cause i see the tremor
sh~te faced in scenes of terror, next
you don’t roll deep chief, your whole team’s as deep as henna
~~~~~
hook
so if you’re chatting sh~t, jay thinks he’s better at it
and if your rapping’s sick, safe you might sell a classic
fly like a b~tterfly, taste like a nettle sandwich
you don’t fit the scene like the kray twins in leather jackets
if you’re spitting bars, dribbling is less attractive
and if you’re talking stories you’ll get buried like your treasure map is
smells like you’ve been getting acid, banging ket or drinking bleach
you don’t fit the scene like a death threat that gets me panicked
~~~~~
ghost me never got your face in the bed sheets
don’t mean kezza, triple k for your best speech
don’t mind me when i traipse in the hedge creeps
i’m looking out of place like your mates on a french beach
rather unsuspecting with a weapon like a turkish shooter
you heard the rumour, the cretins in a certain stupor
i’ll turn up in a he~rs~, spit a verse, speak kurdish to ya
pick your pocket, black ball ya. you sir, are snookered!
a nervous loser, nuisance in every phone call
in essence so cool but f~ck it, my tourette’s is vocal
i reckon cold calls will take over every market
hit you with the “talk to me! pick up the phone, it’s terry halfwit”
you’re a newsreader but there’s more truth in my written feature
i won’t buy the sh~t you’re selling and i won’t spit it either
sharp as precision cut stone in the thousands bc
it’s freaky, i’m still a geeza
~~~~~
hook
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