Chemo - Old No.7 lyrics

(Verse 1) Hey yo I illustrate the acetate Envisioning the animé Sipping on the Alizé Pissing in the alleyway Listen to my cabaret Monday wishing it was Saturday Latter-day Saint Make your dinner date salivate 'Cause I'm sweeter than carrot cake Two thumbs up Like the Fonz does on Happy Days Drop a pineapple-shaped hand grenade The flavour's all natural Like homemade lemonade Let me demonstrate How I'm popping off in your house Like a SodaStream Just so you notice me Prototype poetry Flowing-type vocally Overnight brainchild Growing in the ovary Spitting so chemical Mr Incredible The essence of creation Contained in my testicle So egotistical You don't want to get technical I'll turn you to a very sad spectacle Huh? You're a tad skeptical? Don't make me pull out the pen and pad sketch for you Draw the tarot card, blud It spells d**h for you Draw the curtains on your life It spells d**h for you (Chorus x2) I'm trying to draw that phone number sippin' on Old Number 7 So can I get a sign from the heavens? (Verse 2) I'm the communist plot Police want to stop me on a Stockwell tube With eight shots from a Glock Rock solid crops for the chicken head flock Spitting red-hot Ripping out the dead rot Got the game in a state of deadlock And once you put the name to the face It's bound to make your head nod And make your toes tap Fingers snap back Call and response Yeah, I'm bringing that back I've got a bin bag of baggage Sick in the cabbage Vicar in the parish that'll split up your marriage Slicker than your average Sipping on the Kestrel Peppercorn crushing with the mortar and pestle There's more to the war-torn vessel than the battle scars Or the camouflage that I wore on the special occasion It's more vodka and kahlua And cream for the caucasian Peep the rate of inflation With skunk inhalation Biters catching two-face with gum inflammation Mask and a gun inclination Put I stay mellow Puff an L And get drunk in the basement Fist of a derelict Punching the pavement (Chorus x4) I'm trying to draw that phone number sippin' on Old Number 7 So can I get a sign from the heavens (Verse 3) I stay charged off the caffeine Professional on tracks like a world-cla** athlete Kids in the back seat Yelling "Are we there yet?!" You're already there Bet you think like a s**m Still swimming for the egg Never too proud to beg I admit it like Q-Tip "Can I get permission to kick it?" If she says 'Yes' that's fresh If she don't, it don't really matter Move onto the next! These kids will be quick to forget I'll scratch up your cd f**ing with my tape ca**ette No burning Just dubbing Blow the whistle I'm just bugging You better quit mean-mugging Since the age of a baker's dozen I've been up on the stage Hear the rage, cold-crushing the percussion And you don't want to go home with concussion Jump in the firefox Try and think Russian Caught red handed but I admit nothing