[Verse 1]

It's the triptastic pervert snorting up your sherbert

Rup's the first nerd dropping verbs on your herberts

My paragraphs are written on some para graphs

Feeling half-assed I'm like a druid when my stars charged

Foot and mouth rambler, egg scrambler

Under no pressure like a pub team manager

Walking off the pitch with a hat-trick scored

I'll smash your jaw, youre seeing more stars than Patrick Moore

I'm off-key like singing hymns in assembly

My mates spelling bee(?) but I'd rather use telepathy

Not getting a quick century, sell your soul for 7p

No one's heard of me so no one's trying to censor me

Underground's not a word that I like

Cause I'm trapped in a cave writing rhymes by the gas light

My crap sight means I get broken vision

Provoke derision, when I'm choking on my spoken wisdom

My decision is to take a quick trip down the boozer

Daytime snoozer it's Rup the fucking loser

I get smashed like shop windows on May days

Bring it to your manor like footy fogs on away days(?)

I stay blazed looking slightly dazed

My eyes might be glazed but I ignite the stage

"You right mate?" Yeah I'm feeling fine

I'm just picking off you scabs like a sniper at a picket line

Cricket's fine, but I prefer playing footy

Most rappers today have got as much to say as Sooty (nothing)

So pass the special cookies, but out to the beat

Representing for the losers and the drugged out freaks

(scratching)

[Verse 2]

Stoned prophet, I rap from London to (?)

I drop rhymes like David James drops crosses

"Rup stop it" Man I haven't even started

You get dropped quick like boy bands that haven't charted

I'm getting carded cause my raps are always challenging

Beef is my subject so you can call me cattle king

Not battling cause I'm shit scared

But with a crew of (?) who walk in the club with their tits bared

I did care, but now I'm numb and in a bad state

Watching bad tapes with my sad mates and fat 8's

Rap's great, but I prefer playing footy

I've got a heavy flow like thirty menstruating pussies

Disseminating cookies with LSD drops

I'm coming off like seed pods on some weed crops

Or Gazza when his knee popped

I'm writing pencil poems

I got mad styles like Nobby in a mental home

I let my stencil roam, travel with gentle giants

Brace yourself like DIY dental science

It's the mind alliance like pimps and crack whores

I'm stepping up like Tony Adams in the back 4

Pass me the hacksaw so I can cut a tune

I reflect your shine like the sea under the moon

Rup's coming soon for now the cunt runs the room

Polluting the air until you're fucked off the fumes

(scratching)