Posh British Boy Raps In Car

Stacked with more sweet bars than a kiosk

Uh, bred posh like brioche

Spitting on the mic is my duty for you

Though I look like David Tennant crossed with Louis Theroux

How am I so sick? That is such a riddle

I'm a class act - and the class is upper middle

But my bloody phrasing's just amazing

Rhymes so cold you'll need double glazing

Your girl not attractive in the slightest

My girl leggy like a hundred spiders

Your girl costs you lot financially

My girl cheap 'cos she's imaginary

Still, I got that manly humanity

I live in a mansion with a really big manatee

Man saying I'm not manly when I rhyme

But I'm such a man's man I say "man" all the time, like

Manner man are rapping in has managed to be mangling

Semantics 'til I'm animate and manic as a mannequin

I'm angrily demanding man to manacle thesе maddening

And manufactured rappers that I'm manually dismantling

Uh, I'm likе a big door

'Cos I'm about to slam

And I'm not handing out conserve

When I say I'll make the crowd jam

My bars are sick

With the dopest rhyme schemes

And I'll shut down your bars

Like I'm COVID-19

When I'm on the microphone I rip it to infinity

Sickest with the syllables and sibilance and similes

Stop that quibblin', got that discipline

Take a whack rapper and I stick 'em in the litter bin

Rap a fly spectacle and stand on my pedestal

Ball so hard like a calcified testicle

Uh, all these lame jokers need to know I hate posers

No plastic plants, but these rappers just some fake flowers

Yeah, I'll make these suckers mad because I'm such a lad

I'm a bad motherfucker: I keep fucking dads

My gun brings heat like a massive cooker

Firearm on point like Alan Sugar

Yeah my gun's so big, it's really quite super

I shoot and destroy cats like Tom Hooper

I'm firing bullets steadily

You're firing blanks: vasectomy

I'm armed big, my gat's enormous

You're armed small: tyrannosaurus

Just to be clear, the size of my weapon is heinous

Gun so massive they mistake it for my penis

The ladies love my sound and flair

Birds flocking round my column like Trafalgar Square

Grind so hard I'm rapping to my limits

Work intense like a manager of Millets

Don't try your luck on me

I'm fly and phat: duck confit

For sick lyrics I've got a hard-on

Dope on the track: Lance Armstrong

Big on TikTok: no horologist

Taking the piss: no urologist

Serve you fast: no Boris Becker

Make shit pop: no Dr Pepper

Flow so drastic into position

Loco mad shit twistin' the rhythm

Solo ratchet this is my vision

Go Go Gadget Sick Lyricism

These rappers so boring I'm actually snoring

I'm laying it down like it's laminate flooring

You see I'm compellin' stop being a melon

I'm crushing this bridge like I'm Ian McKellen

Devour the rhythm like carrots and hummus

And feast on these rappers like salmon and couscous

The craziest dog I be making them jog

And I put the OG into Jacob Rees-Mogg

And I'm drippin' in followers sicker than cholera

Lyrics that's fitter than Philippa Forrester

This'll astonish ya sisters I'm rockin' a

Dick that's so big it could pivot a gondola

Into the rhythm I've added a rest

(Inhaling) For catching my breath

That is the way I get lyrically busy

I would do more but I feel a bit dizzy