(No Ratings Yet)Quick one from Skuff covering Nas’ Purple.
- I got a, fresh new rhyme book that goes with my outlook
- Fresh new mind even leaving my crowd shook
- Fresh new designs, fresh climbing my output
- And I’m, fresh on the grind every time I touch ground to foot
- I’m leaving mouths hooked
- Land 'em like I’m Colin McRae
- (I'm) Off the rails now, and gone are the days
- I make beats in a bottomless cave
- Write songs for both the moments of clarity
- And having it off your face
- Rap often has changed
- (We) Swapped fat laces for chains
- Lyrics for names and the gospel for hearsay
- And though it’s come far and climbed high the sheer way
- I can still make out the way we started on a clear day
- Clear the way I’m here to build, this is rap construction
- And we don’t deal with that kiddie shit you cats discussing
- Gum shoes in the function face destruction
- Delegates of motherfucking culture need no introduction
- End of the world news and this is just in
- MCs so nervous that they need to tuck their guts in
- Bear styles like Rukspin's what Skuff brings
- And the world’s still taking its time, still adjusting
- If there’s thing one I hate: its politics of the game
- I've been hopping insane with a lot of it on my brain
- Don’t regret no bad decisions I might’ve possibly made
- Stop, take, make revisions till I’m locked in my lane
- You know the state of my bangers: no breaks don’t wait
- Joe’s hastily overtaking so you’ll know he’ll escape
- You’ll find an empty car, I’ll be darting over your gates
- And locked doors cocksure cause I’m still holding the ace
- So mate
- I drop my rhymes on gold tapes in a solo take
- Silk pop shield, pearl booth is a piss take
- Fuck that
- I’ll make a Shure sound like crystal lakes
- Make Wavelab & Acid fatter than it's Ricki Lakes
- For pity sake
- I take the biscuit and I nick the cake
- And that shit got ate
- And it’s in your face
- And I don’t care what’s on trend cause this is my taste
- I’m so dope, run your gums and you won’t feel your face
- Pass a rapper I'll run rings round his skinny waist
- Plus his bigger mate, turn rings to figure eights
- Pass the mic I don’t shine I incinerate
- Design-wise, biters are living straight off my dinner plate
- Its right here, these ideas will give them weight
- My sights clear, it’s my year, well give and take
- My style’s clearly the tightest you’ll hear a lyric made
- Pity matey's pissed hitting eights when he spits his takes
- Ripping tapes
- The world’s too small, give me space
- It’s like that cliché: same shit, different day
- And I remember we were caned tripping hitting raves
- MDMA hitting sniffing yay but we didn’t stay
- Bling bling
- Fuck off is what my city say
- We spark an aftershave Molotov in Diddy’s face
- Across the bridge of Cambridge I came, Lips the name
- Tell a DJ your shit’s lame if this isn’t played
- My state of mind is all beige
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