(Verse 1, Red.)

It’s the beat ripper

Metal tin can rusty ass hand

Blasting motherfuckers like the bang of the hand cannon

Ask me what i do and i’ll say murder for the fun manors

Smash em, bury em, pick em up and drown em

Slash them, fore i finally gouge your eyes out

Sell them on the d web for approximately 5 pounds

Crowd loud same motherfucker who likes to pow yow

Riding around town with the same revolver that murked bub fore the metal album even came out

Rusty tin man with the oni face able to prove to you that there’s a place for rap in the UK

Fuck the government imma preach whatever i say

Fuck boris, milky bitch gon need a handkerchief

Fuck off my property bruh

Nobody stopping me bruh

Your whole lives a mockery bruh

(Verse 2, Red.)

Ok dokey i’m roaming over the boarders you bitches better just board your doors as i’m coming in with no remorse again, motherfucking rigormortis

Locomotive with the boarders all afloat of the heated coat of the scapegoat of a joke all over again

Feel the holy punch akin to moses

Motorboat you bitches get an antidote

Your throat stitching up probably from the form of smoke

The culprit of the potent crunch

Remember captain kush

He’s back and he’s acting dirty, hon

Rolling with his dirty bunch

With the new jewish bush

Covering up his face without the pain from the fire of the burning bush

Yuck, disgusting

But not so shocking

Had to get right in like a flock of fingers picking berries as the poison lingers

Sick syllables, feel like count drac blood sucking motherfuckers as her other brother muddled in his thoughts with muddy flood entering his flower bud what the fuck, how disgusting that the luck akin to some scrap tin founded bruh