WERD N DEEKO (S.O.S) - Bar Exchange lyrics

rate me

What's that whos this what's this man

Aye right cunt (huh) S.O.S. (haha)

Who the fuck wanna (Werd)

Nae Cunt (uh)

You rappers fuck around you take after your ma

We are a fucker of a pair like a double D bra

Best in the game on the ball like Kaka

So you know I will blow like I follow Allah

They pick us like a damn guitar

To be in the space that you're called a star

I'll be blunt like the skin of a cigar

Like a bar tender a attend to my bars

Work on bars chin up cunt

You don't want a fucking scar from the chin up cunt

Get called Tony

My doe fold like calzonis

In my pocket with Es keys and pre-rollies

I ain't no phony jabronie talking balonie homie

I clearly show ye some gory stories with your cronies

Sliced like pepperoni

Because for flows they owe me

Jesus Christ with a Knife

A make them holy

I write song packing a punch harder than Tyson

Spits poisonous like the venom out of a python

Winking at your bird with a bitch under my right arm

So come on come on come on over here to get done

You don't know me you probably never will

Go to clubs with a knife in my belt dressed to kill

(Looking sharp)

Giving me daggers fuck you man am giving you daggers

Pick one which one to enter your abdomen

You're only half a man

This shit is getting embarrassing

Punching the lights out of on transvestites

Immaculate mind

Compulsive theft a snatch what I find

Steal your watch give it to Werd

Just to pass the Time

Fucking hoodlum

About to blow up with my music like Muslims

On the 26 bus headed to Luton (Fucking hell)

The Al-Qaeda of rap will snap then

You'll get bombarded with tracks

I will hi-jack your whole cipher

Ain't you heard Werd funny like stitches

Stitches is witches get when I chib ye's

Get a couple teams on cunts like grass pitches

And fuck a grass slash if he's spraffin your business

My plan hit hitches

Still hitting no riches

Spare change play pitchy not blew up strictly

Underground sound yeah Deek is still with me

Since we made with me

Fuck that it's history

Got sound like the Ministry and it's full of misery

A have piff epiphanies so gifted in delivery

Mics am addicted to so fuck how you picture me

A leave a fool in disarray and tell them read a dictionary

A literally take liberties to cunts with stupidity

Indivisible most lyrically spit hot like high humidity

Like weather that you're kidding me

I flow on solar energy

Son shines so advanced we battle with telepathy

Could kill a rapper with 8 bars

Show up at the funeral

Read the eulogy just to finish him off

One of the last real rappers alive so don't panic

While I'm hi-jacking you're mind

Prepare you for crash landing

Sitting quiet when am speaking my mind

They can't stand it

If my crew was ever part of a riot

Then I planed it

Don't ever give me daggers a'l give you a fucking sword

Push it into your temple until you one with the lord (get it)

My styles in your face the kind that can be ignored

I swore to never rhyme poor that's something I can't afford

Sitting staring at the floorboards feeling board

Agitated trying to make this CD player record

Got a list of whack rappers who think they've got it locked

When am sitting backstage at shows ticking a box

Like that's him Yeah him too

He know he's gonna get it

S.O.S. Deeko and Werd just so you don't forget it