Don't Flop - Ogmios vs Matter (Round One) lyrics

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Don't Flop - Ogmios vs Matter (Round One) lyrics

[Ogmios] Yo, who put a snapback on a Psammead Don't know what a Psammead is? It lives in the sand It's a sad fact that you keep your sand in that You pop up and chat crap to kids on some scam attack Your battle rap's spammiad You may as well back track up to your granny's flat And just Snapchat us your fanny flaps See it's apt that I say that right 'Cos your raps have no replay vibe You're the game of life on an atheist vibe Me? I'm GTA 5 My release got people awaiting lines Ready to reload and take their time Over my schemes layout and design Until it really stays in their minds So you're the spit of Mr Magoo You sound like you spit through a didgeridoo 'Cos you are here it's true But your voice, it's in a different room When you rap it sounds like someone moaning While they're scuba-diving Your producer's called Sonar, and even he can't neutralise it He puts an anti-matter filter on after you voice it And it stills like your rapping from the toilet I feel sorry for your crew With you, trolling every song When you rap about 'Smoking the bong' It sounds like you're actually trying to rap while you're smoking a bong And in your Yorkshire cyphers they've got to do the work that you're shy to put in Their gas got you puffed up, Yorkshire Pudding And it's not I check for the slang that you man shout When I say it's just Dialect that stands out And I'm so bitter at Those who insisted that This is a mirror match I guess I'll have to live with that 'Cos really it's his missus that actually has to live with that Or maybe you could be my twin, my evil twin My pathetic, creepy, mis-shapen, feeble, weasel-faced twin You were the fetal gimp My feet all in your chin Kicking you into the corner of the womb Growing twisted and deformed as he grew Living of a quarter of the food After birth you were an afterthought that would have been aborted if we knew But it's not true We're not twins 'Cos you've been alone and confused Since your dad's scrotum produced One stoned slow-moving s**matazoon That fused with the last ever ovum to fuse with your mother's fallopian tubes From that moment it's been all over for you Breathing was a bonus for you But now that's over too 'Cos this is the hands of Conan Strangling the throat glands of Hans Moleman [Matter] You said you're like GTA 5, blatantly you're not But your punches are, because we've got to wait ages for them to drop Now, the second game of the new season Time to strap on my boots Avoided a two match ban for that two footed tackle on Youth This is my season, time to provide the fans with the proof The ref blows the whistle, let the madness ensue Let's get started with this sh** First minute, the ball stays in the same half and then it's switched Gets pa**ed to Matter, he controls it calmly with a flick Races up the line touchline like he's Nani on the wing Strikers waiting in the box, they're all barging for an inch The're all waiting for the cross, but whoah, whoah, whoah Who let this f**ing Dalai Lama on the pitch Alright, I'mma set it off f** you saying, Eggmios Don't think that I'mma let you off Your inevitable exit on a stretcher 'cos you're extra soft Forget it boss I'll put my hands around your neck and Hoooold On Like the Beggars song I must be crazier than Crazy Glue To agree to be here facing you 'Cos I'm like Weezy in the courtroom - I paid my dues Ayo, Dialect, you heard these little f*ggots hating on Yorkshire talk with a pa**ion? Well there's no way this could sound as sick in a different accent: *Coughs* You f**ing hippy ba*tard And since he's acting like he didn't catch it I'd better talk to him in his hippy language Like I'll dash him in the seas of Ibiza when the tide's high Watch him change colours and wave about like tye-dye He thought he would stop the strength to fight the sea But it pulls him farther back Drags him on, watch the bubbles rising like a lava lamp Laughing like spazzing on acid as he strains for breath As he's thankful just to be laid to rest That's Grateful Dead You ain't never caught a rape charge Not even one You just stay calm and talk about multidimensional quasars And how we're just a blip on the intergalactic radar But I hate stars That's why I place you at the bottom of the board with all your space bars And TBH As soon as this battle was TBA I knew I CBA Well BBK when I go to war on d** like the DEA Leave [?] like a CCJ And trust I'll leave him spinning like a CDJ