[Verse 1: Nerve, Skrub, Nerve & Skrub]

Ayo, hush, son (Ssh), or get the fuck up

Catch me in the back of the club; I'm putting my ones up

A numbnut bangin' my track in the back of dump trucks

Like "Wassup?" Screws up in my cap like I'm a Munster

Yo, fuck a punter in the crowd, catch me at the pokie, stat

'Cause it's a gamble for these rappers if they think they dope on tracks

Without a feature, you ain't gettin' on my flow, son

'Cause who said you were dope… no one

I'd be lyin' if I said I wasn't in it for the moolah

Get the crowd like ooh-rah, yeah, only spat a two bar

But the shit was too hard, Kill it like I'm on a spree

Atop the scenе, plotting schemes like a monarchy

Yo, thе Slim Shady look-alike, that high voice wannabe

Got them gold fingers, James Bond it like I'm Connery

I don't wanna see the schemes that you've written (Nah)

You ain't married to the game, so I can't fuck with you like Jud'ism

Yeah, soundin' like a yank, hmm, kinda wack, man

You jumpin' in the cypher like T—T—T—TeamBackpack

Hey, yo, scratch that, I put skinny crackers on the map, lad

Your trap rap's toxic, catch me rocking a hazmat

You think your life just to party? Then watch me crash that

Rocking up in matte black with my pen and pad packed

Crowd going "bap bap", like Wombat when I drop raps

Yo, and just like him, you best believe I'm where the bongs at

Ayy, clock that, I'm always on track when I work the whip

Murkin' cliques when I turn a spliff to a verse that's sick

I'm wondering how many rappers in my furnace fits

(All of 'em) 'Cause I burn 'em quick till they turnin' crisp

I murder kids if I haven't seen 'em earn a stripe

'Cause I con rad rappers with the way I murder mics

Represent, the ugly punk with a dirty mind

With a face that makes girls I like wanna turn to dykes

[Verse 2: Nerve, Skrub]

Yo, we party and then we bullshit

Say you pack a gat, never seen you pull it

I smack 'em back to school, kid, smashin' tracks, back-to-back classic raps

Lad, you should practise that, matter fact catch a slap

It's the action packed brainiac with the magic pad

Think your rappin's fat, man, I'm natural as my habitat

Yeah, I got you backtrackin' like a map

On some Manny Pac' when I smack a cat till he's flashing back

Like acid tabs, got you trippin' when I spit a verse

I'm sick with words, always leave 'em in a clinic, burnt

Tell me go to hell, nah, I'll bring the whole thing to Earth

'Cause these other rappers got no drive, 'less they're in a hearse

Think you're ill with verbs, 'cause you're a drill rapper?

I could rap overdosed on smack but you're still wacker

Pill packer on some dumb type rap

Your album ain't a hit, son, where the punch lines at?

Yeah, I heard your shit, didn't understand one line spat

So if you're thinkin' 'bout dissin' better run right back

This ain't just some hype track, we stay real on the regular

Say what you want, but you still ain't impressing us

We steez it up, greasy punks that never eat enough

'Cause every MC we see they flee or maybe been our lunch

For this past year on every single day, week, and month

So soon there's gonna be no more rappers left in the scene but us

Trust, 'cause you know it's Nerve, the verbal murderer

Servin' up words for the purpose of murkin' these herbs with a burner

You learnt from the worst; I serve a sermon in a fervent verse

Leavin' nerds perturbed and then return with a curse for the Earth

Ugh, tell 'em, right now it's too easy

So catch me put the scene in a box like Houdini