Yy - Butcher's Bill lyrics

[Verse One: Pip Skid] I find it hard to believe that you know my steez Please, you're a fart in the wind, a soft breeze Get up off your knees and look me in the eye You a fruit like what gets cooked into a pie Hooked and high yeah the pot still stink Like when a wet sausage link rot in the sink Not what you think, create change like a quarter For putting these strange hate raps into recorder Might as well go for a soder, aaah I mean soda Mix it with the rye and green to fill the quota Colder than North Dakota (you need to compare?) You look a whole hell of a lot like Rick Flair What you think it's welfare? And s** air out of a dingy Aaaaah! You think I give a f** about Chingy? Bring me, [?], yo the future ain't sunny People still hungry and the butcher want his money [Verse Two: Yy] A shake these Greatest of ease Give me a break beat, you'll hate me and make me leave I don't play things, it's like I have a disease I see another and another and they're covered in cheese I could give a fat f** what the government sees I wouldn't rock sh** by anybody other than me s**er will be, kind when he suffer defeat Step aside and we'll find somebody tougher to beat We need Understanding, number one fans With their hands up dancing, up in the stand We look good Your ugly hands And when P&C arrived they say you're utterly bland You started dabbling in something you can't [?] about a grand You stumble into rap unplanned Making of a band Like I knew you [?] from the shaking of a hand [Verse Three: John Smith] You gettin' hacked up I'm talkin' big bad cuts Of mismatched chumps The blitz man mush So lean back, jump The quicksand [?] Will slip that skuzz like Dristan does And who's tracks bump? Man, Smith and Gruf You ice grilling her, you need to fix that mug Man, chill the f** out, you need to six pack us On a rehab, we had with mis-manners [?] and grandma and added disses Ain't kick the can? Aww, that old b**h is persistent No majors since the P&C imprint We playing stages so cold that they gave us shrink dink Scare up the best of the local fodders Still I'm wearing no vest, this ain't Open Water I'll can drown your sorrow You can wallow and piss You never headline but somehow you follow the Smith Abolish this, I'm trying to profit and binge I'd stop but it crawls in my skin and Like Trainspotting, I'm off the syringe I'm committed motherf**er ain't no waffling prick [Scratches] "The butcher" "Yeahh" "Break bread" - Common 'The Food' "Have you cut up if you don't pay up" - Musolini '40 Island' [Verse Four: Satchel Paige] That's Satchel Paige Mr. Break Legs Mr. No Legs Smash talk Winnipeg Black Terry Fox Call him Terry Locks Mr. Ready Or Not You ain't ready or not Mister, you are not For the body's that rot? You better call up the cops We gonna dig up the plots This is Break Bread, butcher shop talk You best to walk You think you's tough? Yo that's a bluff Don't f** with Yy or Gruf You bite? Toss out your spine [?] with the cooking wine A little curry and you're tasting fine Mcenroe on the accordion Bring the reporters in Who let this n***a in? Satchel the champion I take my place, where ever I like Like on the love seat right beside your wife