[Verse 1: Bil Next]

We get it cracking, with a healthy dose of what you’re lacking

Heavy shit, he tried to lift my style and done your back in

Full attacking, Came close over the yapping

Little Jack Russell spitters, rip them up like paper wrapping

Chain reaction, take out the first one

Then watch the others brick and then start acting like they came for chatting

Been a 100 so I may be slacking

But I’m back upon the straight and narrow

Put in work to make it happen

[Verse 2: Res One]

I don’t battle rap

I battle rappers with a bag of wax

Bringing the bangers and set the standards at

How you couldn’t stand the catch (?)

Spitting for the spine attack (?)

Mad mash, designer brass, I’m fine got no time to chat (?)

Gotta move, gotta make moves and mind the gaps

Mind your chat, you might end up like Michael if you wind your chat

Lipsticks, your dribbling ace based on why you rap (?)

Tie your trap or try to find your death (?)

You’re not confined to that

[Verse 3: Blanka]

A mash mechanic, never panic when getting things to work

As we drop it hot like tapping hash rocks and it flips and burns

The world goes though so religion seems a bit absurd

I’ll finish in a hearse so why the fuck would I sing hymns in church

Eating tins of worms, with herbs and some goose eggs

Fuck fruit, I sip juice that looks more purple than bruised flesh

Spit tight like noose necks and split tights with two skets

Don’t do bets, dumber than a fist fight with booze breath

[Verse 4: Two Tungs]

It’s dubious the way that we manoeuvring

We ain't new to this and getting slewed is nothing new to dem

I can be a nice guy or a cunt, depending on the mood I’m in

But most times I’m a fucking hooligan

These rappers love me, they tried to copy

So I ain't sorry about what I’ve gotta do to ‘em

Honestly, fuck an apology

These wannabes bother me

Need to properly study the methodology

Before they try to get to where we got to be

These little bastards need to try a little harder

Me sharpen up my razors til they’re sharper than a barbers

Darth Vader, I’m your father

[Verse 5: Flying Monk]

Yo, check it

Its (…?) flying high with the bars I spit

I take energy from the moon and stars and then I harness it

You can find me on some karma tip sat back (….?)

Like allow all the name games, I don’t wanna part in it

Pardon me, I’m a target pricks

With a load of this lava spit

I’m laughing at your party tricks

Partly because your bars are shit

Hardy-har my harvest is eight straight and demolish scripts (?)

I’m on this shit, like an opportunist I’m an optimist

[Verse 6: Paro]

I’m still deep under the influence

That mad doctor using verses like surgical instruments

I drop it like lacerated ligaments

My deliverance is known to cause mental disfigurements

And triggers many straight happenings and unexplainable incidents

Spontaneous combustion is just a product of my diligence

That shits no coincidence that Split Prophets militant

Relentless using beats as my stimulants

[Verse 7: Upfront]

Unsettle rappers when I speak phrases

The lean strange kid (?)

I hold it down better than ever and never seek status

Fuck being famous, it’s not about that

I make music for other reasons and seeing pounds stack

Heavy when I’m out tracks

Leave clowns flat, you’ll get eaten when I open my mouth

‘Cause my sounds fat

How’s that, like a ball with no air in I doubt you’ll bounce back

Pronounced dead at the scene like a drowned rat

[Verse 8: Datkid]

Yo It’s Brissy nitty City where my gang commutes

In the jungle dodging obstacles like Crash Bandicoot

Buss a show, bang the loot

Spend it on smoking up a strange new brand of fruit

Exhale through the gappy tooth

It’s Matty who looking sketchy there, with an edgy stare

‘Bout to get the Blains blowing everywhere

Fucking tank, puffing dank

Until the bouncers drag me out because it stank

I go out and catch the clap whilst you buss a wank