OFFIE - Cult of The Damned, Lee Scott, Milkavelli

Split personality, fuck it like there’s two o' me

That was back then, I’m twice the guy I used to be

Riding on the Jubilee in silence usually

Kill the conversation, so I can write its eulogy

The lights are on like someone’s home

But they’ve gone asleep, with Bronski Beat on repeat

Small Town Boy Meets World, fucks it and bails

With martian dirt under his nails, I’m way too hungry to fail

I scran me takeout, drink me bottle from the inside and smashed me way out

With glass splinters in me Air Max, wifed off but still single if your bird

asks, laa

Ey

Phone broken like my scales

Smoking, slow motion like a snail

Ey, got me posted like the mail

DVLGNG, holy like the grail, like ey

The lonely bunch, I spin 50 mcs like Tony Touch but don’t touch me

I’m so touchy, unforgiving

I hold a grudge in a cobra clutch but don’t rub me, the wrong way

A long day, don’t rush me

Hoes love me, drag me through this cold country like a snow husky

In the bright white 'Lo rugby don’t trust me

Dr. Evil, I stroke dusty

Raps crooner, born in the wrong era

I shook hands with Sinatra, should have been The Rat Packs fourth member

Pre-YouTube, pre-camera

They tried find me on the Google Image, get the error message silly

Redacted, invisible, enigmatic

The search engine returns zero

Case file gone, ace in a hole

Move on the beat then disappear like Jason Bourne

Face the facts, I’ve been evading paparaz since day one

How dya think I stay so young?

They call me the gun, I bang and I shoot

See me coming?

Now you saw me, now you’re done for

Yo, don’t give it biguns to me pal

I’ll eye gauge ya eyes out like Eyal

Bill, evidently ill

Yellin' in your grill while I’m telling you to chill

For real, I’m too real, Bill Shakes, my pill face is blue steel

Body odour smells of medi bud, treat your gangster racket like a tennis club

I got all the juice, what dya want love?

Yeah we running shit, Blah Records dot gov

You know the name, Blackburn Killa Cam

I sip a can, sniff a gram and write a business plan

I say potato, you say potato and somehow you’re still in the wrong,

cause I say so

Furthermore I ain’t digging your little raps

If you get a feature, understand I did it for the bag

I’m so wise, foresight with sore eyes

Getting paid untruthfully, bumping raw hide

Rinsing off my third eye with pure fluoride

It’s a cold grind, I go on tour with my warped mind

And I can do this all night but I won’t

You can tell by the rhymes that I wrote

I might be the goat, nothing to prove but it’s nice just to gloat

Putting rappers on mute, that’s a silent approach

Ey yo, N-double O-M, Y-L-S

Say it backwards if it doesn’t make sense

I’m sleeping with the cousin of death

Call you a cunt to your face but say nice things under my breath

Drinking 100 percent, playing Russian roulette

Watching sticky fingers playing Russian rudette

Talked you out of suicide and then jumped to my death

Said I’d put you in my will but nothing was left

All the money was spent on government debts and drunken bets

Dying in my coffin under dressed

I want it all and nothing less

Even if I had it I’d be unimpressed

I thump me chest and knock you vultures nests out the tree

I walk around with an air of greatness surrounding me

The son they never had, your Mum and Dad are very proud of me

You’ve never met me yet you vouch for me

Fuck a boundary, out me mind is where I’m bound to be

Slap you cause someone you vaguely know was talking down to me

Unrelated, there’s something powdery on me Audi key

Unabated, understated, underrated, fuck a favourite

(Cult)

(Of)

(The)

(It's the damned)

(Cult)

(Of)

(The)

(It's the damned)

(Cult)

(Of)

(The)

(It's the damned)