This is the rough mix of the title track for my upcoming debut Hip-Hop album, 'Oxygen Checkout, I'll Keep the Receipt'. Due to this being the rough mix, certain adlibs that're mentioned in the lyrics below aren't included in the track itself.
All lyrics written by me.
Produced by James Jelliman.
Recorded, mixed and mastered by James Jelliman.
Yo, you’re hardly menacing,
Smart or relevant, whereas
Getting ‘under skin’, like
An incel seeing a Marvel heroin(e), after
Trying to get high on bread and
Heard that you’re just doubtful, and yet
You still use slurs that then cut proud Jews
‘Go ya’ own way’ with mindless pleas, kid, and
Let’s hope Dan’s phone aches with
No-one gives a fuck where your
Chin is, bruv, as Brad Pitt has eyed;
Smack kids and wives, and people see that the
Trojan horse of an oval jaw
Coax us all into forgetting your soulless scorn
Circle-ation, quicker than Andrew Tate
Or the head of the Justice League
Then again, I could wait for Greta’s
Quick rendering, with glee, of a
Dismembering, slick tweet
Go mention how, foes tremble round with
Coughed, ruptured spleens, and tell them
Less-than hallowed seers, with
Cursed fables, so I’m not nervous, Paimon!
A great foil, even Harry Wormwood
Wouldn’t take his crazed oil; since I
Have the time to grab asides,
A future snake-skin wallet used in a
Me Too training office that’ll soon be
Thrown away, ‘Cobra’ Tate’s
Yeah, he’s ‘taken out of context’, like
Hope his fans see their man’s too lame, like
Those who once ‘drank Kool-Aid’, when
Raiding their pockets for
That Loose Change and other
Let’s drop those scissors; to that
Myth of Jonestown that spirals like
The Congo River, I no longer row down
I lied when I said there’d be
Vocal cords will make you turn quick, and
Take a moment’s pause with a
Shogun’s force and gold tension, like a
Ethereal, seismic; it’s so fair
When I’ve got the mic, even when I
Show up out of nowhere, like Wanda Sykes
Getting caught in the TARDIS materialising
Isn’t the case ya’ hearing’s rotten, daily, so
I came just to say that I’ll clear the
Periodic table, when I swallow large, bright
Clumps of waste that’re tart and scarred, and
Had a short half-life from Dalek Caan’s
Your lyrics induce very fitting laughter, like
Those who complained about
Verse marks tracks, innit, mate, and
For the record, the only valid use of the
Term ‘half-cast’ is when ya’ sit through
The Five Doctors, give or take (aha)
Body of work is my love letter to life;
Will always have a brain swelling with cries of concern
Either way, if when the heart’s
Beating fades, I get a leafy, aged
Receipt, the glee will stay, so I’ll
germansingergirl
blakekathryn
pixelskylines
prguitarman
titsay
