Please - Jam Baxter

And they MCs, you know who I’m talking about

And they MCs, so heads please

Why you wanna nerdify the scene

'cause you heard some brehs kill it and it turned your mind to green?

Turds in my latrine, clawing at the sides

Lurk in my machine, snorkelling my mind

I was talking to the flies on a warm summer’s day

So you can chalk up a storm 'cause I walk unafraid

And I smelled hell, and them days I never felt well

Shells fell from the skies, blind, I would yell help

It never came, but the day I stop breathing’s

The day I stop screaming, today I’m not leaving

My chamber pots leaking liquid animosity

Swill a can of horrors and I piss it back as honesty

Distilling like the waragi, swimming in the test-tubes

Head glued to the mirror picking at the flesh wounds

So please, why you wanna spit like a neek?

Just let your life drift in the breeze

Punch-drunk off of one fucking beer

Or just under the thumbs of some dumb puppeteer pulling strings

Looking at your life, and it’s grim

Butchering the mind of a kid

Sat sipping slit limbs from a chalice, like the cribs of molasses

In your fictional palace now

I ain’t an idiot (naw)

Maybe I kinda am

Maybe I’m living my life tied to a cider can

Mind my saliva gland, flood a fickle sandscape

A rampage of colour comes gushing in a blank space

How’s the jam taste?

How’s the bitter berries?

How’s your fan-base?

Or have you quit already?

This shit is messy but they’re acting like it’s glorious

Preach to the masses, bruv, patronise your audience

With government this, conspiracy that

Isn’t it brash?

Yes it is, bruv, I’m living with that

Deliver the scraps to the door in a bag marked «potential»

I’ll whip you up a feast in my black marble temple

Stand half-assembled, ordering parts

From a stack of lost catalogs stored in the past

Gawp at the stars, and wonder if it’s all a mirage

If it is, would it matter if I tore them apart?

So please, why you wanna spit like a neek?

Just let your life drift in the breeze

Punch-drunk off of one fucking beer

Or just under the thumbs of some dumb puppeteer pulling strings

Looking at your life, and it’s grim

Butchering the mind of a kid

Sat sipping slit limbs from a chalice, like the cribs of molasses

In your fictional palace now