Fantastic Man - Jam Baxter

Yeah thank you very much, fresh right down to my tagliatelle guts

Bitch you’re way too kind, stay lathered in succes in these strange new times

Fresh out the bath, face made of tweed

Liquidised brain on some rainmaker steez

Stained glass jacket with the platinum hood

Got the giraffe skin pockets full of acid and kush

Look sublime, barbed wire scarf velvet bally

Clean set of knives taped to my teeth my flesh baggy

Stab happy tongue sharp chin chiselled features

Velour jaw sugar neck liquored up genius

Gas proof ear muffs muffle that fraff talk

Short back and sides racking lines on the catwalks

Jaw snapping eyes, role model musk

And a thousand yard stare to make the whole brothel blush

Dust out, lading in my radiant flesh

Moonwalking in my enriched uranium creps

Do the nuclear skank instantenous death

Check the burberry eyelids as they lay me to rest

Tree trunk fingers with the best dressed aphids

Kids ain’t fucking with the flesh, let’s face it

Suck the respect from the air

Exhale smug bullets with exceptional flair

Slide out the yard, big bag of stuff

Rock twenty layers like the kids fattened up

My vibe hand stitched by sweating obese children

Packaged and crammed into an elegant beak

Silken smile, rich regalia, crude oil jacuzzi

Blood diamond iris, eyes bleed profusely

New bejewelled suits smooth skin fitted loosely ruby guts basted in beauty

Pursued by a mass gash flash mob, chewing coins, guzzle gold

Picking dried blood and fake nails from my rubber soles

Looks within looks like Russia dolls

Fill a cup of cold caviar rock a plush rubber skull, criss

Chairman of the strong vibe academy

Silver skinned midget with a steel shank hacking me a fresh slab of ham

From the psychedelly deli Henny pouring out my pores

I’m bored already, yes

Wafer thin slices of the last Javan gibon

The desired diet plan of a half assed magician

Check the varnish on the guts

And the old crying butler sat sharpening the tusks

Yeah, thank you very much, fresh right down to my tagliatelle guts

Bitch you’re way too kind, stay lathered in success in these strange new times