Super sonic workaholic, people think i am bionic, but im sick like a trickster, im already in my pit, so im just slaying for kicks, saying rickety me tripped, tip tables, rip and dish then eat this $h!t, till it drips from my lips, this fire is lit, i grit as i split from the seams, a better me seeing bigger dreams but i sweat, wet dorps. till i got soggy socks, my target is now locked, gun is cocked and ready to rock, but nobody knocks, im still watching the clock. im blocked with barricades, a hurricane is coming you way, so if your in the UK better stay in your own F@K!ng lane or get sprayed and sent straight back to satan, duck tape you cant no esace, zip tie and blindfold your eyes, and have some grape flavoured pie, im obviously high, but will find any reason to F@(K up you life..
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