[Intro]

Dope similes 101

Yo, I am tight like a virgin

Hot like the sun

Cold like the winter

Can't see me like Stevie Wonder

[Verse 1: Mr Wrong]

Who is he?

Only throwing rhymes at stupid beats

Human beast, keep it real whilst lying through my teeth

Bottom lip dripping drool

So move your feet when we're trooping through the street like Brooklyn Ac, only in Liverpool

Headbutting your head, a little fool still at infant school

You'll get pushed to you death with no fucking respect

Children Of The Damned crew's retarded

Threatening to shoot judges with machine guns like Stuart Hartnett

The dirty Mersey dweller from Runcorn, I'm sick

On maternity wards, I yell at the unborn for kicks

Call it quits, awkward pricks dropping nothing that's useful

I nod at your crew but not in approval

Whooping cough at your funeral, motherfuckers

Platinum fronts are rusted, dragging plastic knuckle dusters

And if you duck our punches, you'll get kicked in the ear

I won't be hitting the Earth until I finish this verse

[Verse 2: King Grubb]

Good, King Grubb snuff messenger

I sit and sip blood from my pimp cup replica

Dumb-telligent shit on MC's, enema style

Mentally dead 'cause I never read as a child

The thought has never entered my head

Tripping with a peg as a leg after necking a keg, I'm hilarious

At the bottom of the ladder, talking down to my superiors

A sinner who thinks that he's Jesus

I ain't scared of blowing up, I'm scared that no one will pick up the pieces

Ritalin dealing every day, I'm on some Father Jack shit

For target practice, I use your carcass

Kill MC's two by two, fool choose a partner

A potential abusive father

Suit of armour handcrafted out of chewed up lager cans

Stupid proof, you aren't the man

They're laughing at you, not with you

[Verse 3: Mr. Wrong]

Nervous and stoned, sniffling with a permanent cold

As dumb as can be, always after something for free

The drunk imposter who smokes a spliff of fiberglass and rinses his mouth out with bootleg Russian vodka

Could achieve something but gets stoned and drunk instead

I.R’s practical jokes result in death

Fuck a Jez Beadle, hate the Bill and Ted sequel

Prescribed Prozac so I'm happy seeing dead people

Too blitzed, fucking up the scam

And the voices in my head are in a language I don't understand

Roll with no sense of direction

Rubbing out my pencilled confession 'cause I forgot where I buried the weapon

Heavily footed, only ever disgusted

Peddling dumb shit twisted like your neck when I wrung it

Seen you out last night reading poetry in Pro Central

Eating Maccies with a crack whore by candlelight

[Outro: Mr. Wrong]

Roddy Piper is down with us

Children at the Damned fams down with us

Blah Records Familia is down with us

You know, Keith Davids down with us

Mr. John Carpenter is down with us

Residents of Lizardville are not down with us