DANA SCULLY
Typical over analytical Cynic
Clinically depressed
Lyrically blessed (innit)
Like a trigger that's pressed
Burstin with vigour n zest
Rehearsing to excess
It's a talent I'm blessed with
By a mental imbalance I'm restless
I pin it all for hours
Million rhymes a minute
Cos only my mind's the limit
Pinnacle of my lyrical prowess
Permanent adrenaline
Mind never stops assembling
Elephantine
Excellent rhymes
Hell of a line (right?)
But it's a menace
A stock that's never replenished
Can't condemn it
Soon as I think it I've got to pen it
A mental pandemic
No treatment from no doctor or chemist
As fast as its written its thought
Lyrics ever rich in onslaught
The clock is tickin it's gone nought
3 rhymes can I make it one more?
The words are kickin like jean Claude
Got the verses on board
And the rhymes are flyin like concord
Doesn't make sense to me
Giving identities
To these nonentities
They'll go to world's end to be famous
Forever chasing that A-list
So many cheap imitations
None of em wash
Seeking invitations
To Jonathan Ross
N celebrity juice
Where's your integrity youth?
Anything for infamy
I would take great pleasure killin em
But forget how the press're billin em
She's an A-lister instantly
Because she shows her chest to millions
She's a glorified porn star
And forget Q gave this chump's album 4-stars
He doesn't even know what chords are
There's no such thing as born stars
Just press-whores hungry for sports cars
Never ending cluster of rhymes
As many as I can muster at a time
I'll keep goin til I rupture my mind
But I'll never be recognised
Undoubtedly second prize
Forever to those who butcher a verse
Rhyming "bed" with "head"
And their structure is worse
Second grade chumps
Who can only rhyme a word once
Just the second line with the first
Take Professor Green
That guy is laughable
And have you ever seen
A face more smash-able?
I don't know how the hell you're signed
You'd be hard pushed to find
A bloke as talentless
Is that nasal voice supposed to hide your lacklustre rhymes?
Tryin to be Plan B you're closer to Busta Rhymes
Hmm...musta hurt, that
But not as much as the fact
That I can sit back tonight
As you lyrically soak yourself in paraffin
And set your talentless ass alight
Cos it's ineffably embarassin
Every word you spit at the mic
Cos right now you're on top of it
But in the time it takes to pop a zit
You'll be the opposite
When they realise you're a crock o' s**t
So while the gettin's hot
Before your profession's lost
Maybe try n invest in stocks
Because when professin' stops
And you're sellin' vests n socks
And window dressin' stock
And chavs ask for your autograph
Will you be sure to laugh?
I'm guessin' not