Great Attempt - Dirty Dike, Fliptrix

So welcome to the fat naked version of a great attempt

A person who needs a quick detergent and a basic cleanse

I’m coming certain like a sturdy vegetated stem

Flirting with my brain again and perching on this breaking fence

The word for me is take the services but pay the debts and never take offense

You know I’m dirty and you rate the stench

I leave you burning up and verging on a rape attempt

In nothing but a skirt and gloves to learn to fucking make some friends

Spend, all your cash at once on anything

Except a gram of ketamine, or any slapper’s wedding ring

You get the slow clap and clattered with adrenaline

And whacked around the head until your neck flaps a flappy chin

Sing, I wear a hash bib for hot rocks

Ad libs are made of shit and cats piss you nobcock

Knock knock, who’s there?

Who cares?

Can we cotch?

I got a gram of posh, 20 Tramadols and have 'em washed

So we can wash some crack and have a good old fashioned trammy off

Take our trousers off and shout about it in an album, what

Proud of being out of stock, I sell a bunch of better stuff

I’m clever, fuck an everlasting effort like a severed cunt

And fuck a club who bangs up a punter just for selling drugs

Your lucky Toby never filled that pig’s head with petrol up

So who’s the moralistic crusading cow on ice?

The coward type who only shouts about it when he’s out at night

And only counts the pounds and never spends

So all his stories end in awkwardness with snore patterns pouring through his

boring head

So smell the roaring breath of CP and breathe deep

As we breed a scene like a chief leaves his teepee (Keep clean!)

Please, I get as bored as a Ouija

Six speed course, I was born popping wheelies

Now all applaud at my jaw dropping freebies

You’re mopping stage floors and copping all of my CDs

Remember this wild night with Scissor on whites driving

Me hitting the vapes, sky high in the front wyling

Dike, Sammy and Baxter in the back, they’re mad hyping

No boombox, we be boxin a rap cypher

Tiny car bouncing like slag when a man rides her

Feds see the shit and then pull us with the sirens

Car stinking of skunk, think that there’s more in the trunk

Only the driver ain’t drunk, we’re fucked, ain’t faking a funk

Gave 'em some bud, they took it, waved us along now

Probably getting blazed to this song (nah, that’s raw)

Got away cuz we’re above the law

Got a name cuz they raw like cut veins when they pour

Been poor, made change now we make change from it all

Ain’t in the same lane as before, the name says it all (High Focus)

Take a highly educated guess, my rhymes are motions

That (?) with the 5 of the best strains, 3 types of nang cobras

I am in the lions den, 3 eyes open

Formulating plans to take out my opponents

No lies, the cro flies, it flies potent

Red eye, symbolising my mind in a moment

Racing, skies part as I ascend through the cracks in the paving

Pacing, life’s a taxing occasion

Patience could turn you into a patient

Don’t like your occupation?

Change it and stop complaining about your pain

It’s your life you’re wasting

Brain remains in a wastebin

Make peace, take dreams, realise 'em and embrace 'em

HF originate since day we been out on the stages

We’re not about the status, it has taken us places

This ain’t a label it’s a family who’s gracious

Outrageous, out of our mind, out of the box and on a wavelength

Forever elevating