Funk Volume - Allergic Reaction to Broccoli lyrics

I'm the biggest prick in this town The British Chris Brown Visit your award ceremony And just sit down I'll slash your tire just cause I enjoy the hiss sound Disagree with this, my sleeves'll slip down Fists out, swingin' 'till the 56th round I could beat you with my wrists bound Ha I list my inspirations in roughly this order: Father Christmas, Satan, and Chris Dorner I'm spreading disorder I diss all the rappers who I asked to collaborate and got a missed call off Rap's Piers Morgan But with a pierced organ Too much information? Too bad, that's the beer talking I sit too near broads And make them feel awkward Randy as Ramsay Now cook me a meal, Gordon Now here's the point where you might think "Why's he still talking? Slimey limey Why should I see the appeal of him?" And that's the point I travel through the camera And slap you 'till you're black and blue, Rihanna Alicia Keys needs to improve her grammar I'll take a hammer to her new piano Now you've had a glimpse inside the ill mind of Dan Bull Try to get out, I doubt you will find the handle My lines are angle grinders They mangle rhymers I rap into the sky And the air force scrambles fighters Spit fire You stink like a lit tire I'll bring you down to the ground Quick as a zip wire Listen to this: My dick is thick and it's large So get onto Twitter and tell Nicki Minaj America's gone sh** since you had Britain in charge And f** off if you think that's a little bit harsh I'll stick a petard up in your doors of perception Snipping the wires, no phone call for protection I get dressed in my Sunday best And I still look less fresh than Kanye West So, give me the hand lotion And phone Frank Ocean I want to know his exact man-to-man quotient I'm loopy, that's limey for "so loco" I run and rub my crotch upon an old hobo Whilst shouting over my shoulder "No h*mo!" Because f** it, you know, "YOLO!" Righty ho, that's Drake's act copied Who am I body bagging next, A$AP Rocky? I suppose I could, but I ain't that co*ky I've already had two chains snatched off me It's time for payback, probably I pack a nine-inch winky, they attract totty And occasionally, I may strap shotties But usually I'll do a drive-by screwface at posses Sneeze and leave the seats of my Maybach snotty Green windows looking like they're made of stained gla**, Gothic I'm a misanthropic proper maniac, potty I got crunk off a straight black coffee It was a bad idea to take that straitjacket off me You just don't have the power to restrain that, Scotty I rap with an ill mind, "Hey, that's Hoppy!" I'll tear his f**ing face off, take that, Robbie! Your production quality is way bad, sloppy Or is your wave compression rate that lossy? "How can Hopsin be the one that he's dissing?" I'm just showing I can do this and still win the competition