Filet Mignon - Jam Baxter, Dirty Dike

Hook

Is that an MC or a BLT?

I swear down, I can’t tell these days,

Cause I’ve been spitting fridge-fresh with the full fat bars

Ever since I could spell my name,

Is that an MC or a filet mignon?

I swear down, I can’t tell these days,

So then rock to my CP, keeping it gutter

And the man, them that felt my pain.

Verse 1

Yeah, yeah, my pain, migraines are more

The sweat in that steg on the dry days of yore

The flypapers full of the lies pave the floor

And the fast King’s kitchen, why waste the score?

I’m in, one of them moves fresh new tremors

In a torch-lit lab full of test tube cherubs

Is that a plump duck or an egg stew, fella says 'Who?'

She did it just to get you jealous, yeah,

Yeah, yeah, they say I’m not relevant

Is that a bag of gas or a tray of hot venison?

Scrape that skeleton, swing it from the rafters

Gargling spittle as I’m picking at the carcass

Hard barbers, smothered in the mince

Waking everyday spitting blood up in my sink

Still struggling to blink with my puke glazed eyes

So, is that an MC or a huge steak pie, say why

Hook

Is that an MC or a BLT?

I swear down, I can’t tell these days,

Cause I’ve been spitting fridge-fresh with the full fat bars

Ever since I could spell my name,

Is that an MC or a filet mignon?

I swear down, I can’t tell these days,

Sipping bark to my CP, keeping it gutter

And the man, them that felt my pain.

Verse 2

Is that an MC or a ham and egg quiche, on a platter

Scraped fresh from a bag of sex cheese

Cause I can’t seem to tell what these rapper heads mean

When they’re screaming in panic like they’re having wet dreams

So, what happened to the scene, is it happening to me?

I feel like a tea bag flapping in the breeze

Should I kneel down or lean back

Or smack you in the teeth?

Nah, before it comes to that I think I’ll pack it in and leave

Cause I’ve had enough of beasts when its phantom are salmon legs

Big man, smashing up their pram and they act depressed

Is that a talent or a faggot in a massive dress

Nah, that’s a rapper slash scag head with a jagged edge

or a fetus with claws

Or a penis that talks, that people ignore

When you speak and we yawn cause we seem to be bored

When you wet lettuce MCs are deep in your thoughts.

Hook

Is that an MC or a BLT?

I swear down, I can’t tell these days,

Cause I’ve been spitting fridge-fresh with the full fat bars

Ever since I could spell my name,

Is that an MC or a filet mignon?

I swear down, I can’t tell these days,

Sipping bark to my CP, keeping it gutter

And the man, them that felt my pain.