Respectable, until I'm in the presence of another human

Whilst you're in the other room I'm chilling with your mother, shroomin'

Over the top like fuck a punch, I'll nuke 'em

You're in the house, and then we kick you out the club and move in

Cold Liver-fuckin-poolin'

I'm sick throwing up a chewed limb a decapitated head and my guts to prove it

Break your spine, remove skull

Satan's finest pupil

Seeing me results with eye-removal

Green? I need to buy a room full

Suicide is useful when life is too dull

Well, shroomin' in hell, I specialise in abusing my health

And have a problem with everyone including myself

Hot-headed, but keep my brain on ice

I'm the type to survive apocalypse then build a doomsday device

Only doing shit that I'll regret in later life

Fuck a soul, I pray to Christ and get put on hold

Drank a gallon, lost my balance in the daze

I'm not dancing in the rain, unless I'm standing on your grave

The illest branded hopeless, rats who strangle roaches

Smoke this and expialidocious

Mr. Wrong, the pro fuckwit

Not your regular nogoodnik

Yo, I improvise a perfect verse

'Cause I lack the brainpower just to learn the words

The only degree that I'm capable of getting's found in-between third and burns

Time of my life, Hell's Kitchen blitzed my dole

I get served with germs then tip them with my soul

An evil lout, losing a piece of his mind every time a word leaves his mouth

Act rude, pro-violence

Dead within, I've got Xs tattooed across the insides of both eyelids

(Mr. Wrong)

Lives beyond the outer limits

Armageddon is coming and I impatiently count the minutes

Downing spirits, grimey drunks

Fuck a pen I write my rhymes in dust

Shit, and this isn't even the fucking foul version

So many rappers have fell off, I could slip now and just be crowd-surfing

Pauper folk

With pipe-dreams of boiling water

Broke as fuck, tryna blag somebody's spoilt daughter

Fuck you all, die

I destroy the aura of any peaceful environment I so much as walk by

Even if I pass unnoticed, rats who strangle roaches

Smoke this and expialidocious

Mr. Wrong, the pro fuckwit

Not your regular nogoodnik

(Talking)

Still high and drunk, awake but my eyes are shut

An attempt to rise and fall, I light the blunt I didn't finish the night before

Room smells of broke hoes and Skol

A hangover in which I try and cure with a few co-codamol

Possibly five or more, climb over the body by the door

Find it's too early to box some weed

So I head for the shop and leave with nothing but a coke and a tabloid paper that I forgot to read

Eyes are bloodshot, dropped my keys on the step

Disturbing the couple now snarling at me by the busstop

Finally found that keyhole, slammed the door

Walked towards the stairs, ignored the phone-call from work

Feel angry for a moment and then I'm floating again

On another outing, gotta find some more weed before I even think of finishing this album

(Yeah, put on the glasses, bastards)