Velvet Swamp - Dead Players, Jam Baxter, Dabbla

Listen, Yo

I represent myself, ain’t one for telling tales

I puff a lot of L’s cause I love the way it smells

If you ask me it’s cool long as no one’s getting raped

But film it just in case cause that devil shit sells

Everything is digital, can’t afford a twelve

No one wants some CD sitting on the shelve

But if Gaga can sing about sucking man’s off

And JLS can sell sex to underage girls

Well, I’ma do my thing and chuck it in the mix

If you ain’t feeling it then you can suck a bag of dicks

Cause I’ve been using words so long they’ve lost meaning

You can find my life’s work scribbled cross the ceiling

And in the meantime who gets the lean in?

Scratching for that meaning, fuck about and catch it like a beating

Please be seated, MC’s are getting de-leted

Dabbla keep it gourmet fresh, your shits reheated

Keep sleeping on it, no one’s gonna prosper

Watch the way we come and bring a wallop to your roster

I creep upon you while you swallowing your Costa

Dead Players running shit from Holloway to Gloucester

Murder the imposter, for fronting like a mobster

Odds are you’ll be screaming like a boiling lobster

So what’s the fuss about, who the hell do you think you are?

Same deal, still the same guy, still pimping ‘ard

(Verse 2 — Jam Baxter)

I awake from the dream as a blurred mess

With my mouth still sore from screaming the word yes

Every time I was asked if I needed a next beverage

Or if the views cris from this mountain of dead Hedonists

Last one standing

My shredded flesh felt the wrath of every cloud and smog

And speck of powder on this stealth attack

I left them with a translucent Lucifer that held them back

Bitching ‘bout the rinse they weren’t welcome at

Peering through the key holes with small sacks of floundering skin

Throwing towel after towel in the ring

I’m on a lifelong cotch

Magnified white hot dots got the ants pranging out when the disguise washed off

Got my style on lock and cello taped to my face

Decorated and abled, the celebration awaits

With this whole city tangled in my beard

Weighing me down and my chins scraping the ground

Like a generation of snakes

A swap the spare screen that I keep deep in my gullet

For a glass of dry white and a three seater to summit

When it kicks off, I’m skiing off

Peace this evening

Swirling round the street lights, bruised up and bleeding

My fam’s still jamming, too spangled to run

With two legs in a ditch and these two tabs on my tongue

Repackage my brain and boot back to the slums

With a sign that reads decadence blue tacked to my gun

(Verse 3 — Dirty Dike)

I be that nicknamed, prick James

Came from the bridge, where the kids make mixtapes and paint when they’re pissed

In those shit stained kicks, getting chased by the pigs

Was my favourite shit from the days that we lived

What a place to exist, my heart lies in New Street

Ever since new pass, the past times have moved me

Our lives were boozy, maybe I’m just dreaming

Before I leave the club you’ll have to scrape me off the ceiling

I buy a car load of avocados

And roam about laughing in pyjamas and a bath robe

And at our shows you get a free dildo

And be thoroughly encouraged not to wear any real clothes

Just a hard hat, pair of the steel toes

Give my buzz back, you dare try and steal those

Eels, crows, cats, dogs, mice, rats, stick insects

I’ll put you in a pillow case and chuck you in the river next

Suffering from liver stress

Fuck it I’ve been nothing but a drunkard since I quit the breast

Love it, I be sucking it and fuck if any chicks impressed

A liquor heads, a liquor heads and I’m in love with cigarettes

I went to hell and back again

And still got arrested by the devil with my sack of paint

Racking straight massive great stripes up of crystal lines

Sinking as the bitter rise distance me I sympathise

(Verse 4 — Edward Scissortongue)

The carrots on my shoulders spitting monologue squalking

Why won’t my feathered friend just stop talking?

Jabbering about life’s stories, trying to live my thoughts

In the sentences I taught him

Bun the parrot, dash him out the driving seat

Flapping ‘bout redemption getting flattened by a JCB

This tar black tarmac sparks as the cars crash

Feathers flew skyward gracefully

I’ll throw nelly swerve under a low bridge

Plunder the piss stop, no body noticed

Spitting venom in this summer city solstice

Off to another city, gunning down these roads quick

It’s like these people fail to notice

The 8 track, brain trap, muzzles on their noses

Pummelling the toe clips, hammering the pedals

Power slide the hair pins, gunning for the medals

See you in the meadows, speaking til the sun set

Even if the evil gushing even wants to run red

Yo we run red lights like we want death

Running like a pussy at a street fight, dun said

This goes out to the wise men birds

With the packages of gold bars, frankincense and mur

Bun the camel, exchange it for a monolithic curse

And join us gunning to your city, drinking Whiskey as we swerve