Rapping Over Silence

Intro [Dirty Dike] Where's the beat in all these fucking battles? (Bare views on YouTube) Weird, man Pre-writing and shit, uhh (Double U, Double U, Double U, dot. Slash. Dot, MC Razor Sharp Lyric Killer) Verse 1 [Dirty Dike] So, you sat and wrote yourself a dirty tune Pissed off at home, (Why?) Cos nobody has heard of you I smirk at dudes from YouTube who only wanna murder crews I heard your battle rap and it was wack and you rehearsed it too (Dirty Who?) Dike, with a mind like it's senile At least I'll clash a rapper in a cipher and it's freestyle Meanwhile, I'll listen to these kids I'm thinking it's ridiculous that you can piss a written out and think it's sick Listen, prick. It's not about 'I'm dropping, it's hot.' Using fillers like a dickhead who's forgotten to stop It's Top of the Pops for cocks I don't want it to stop It's just not fucking hip hop, you honourless knobs So what have you got? Another mouth of goo for your man's face Plus a couple thousand views on your fan page, (I'm killing it!) Where's your album or your talent? Where's your tunes, mate? Too late, it's you: The new and improved tube steak Hook [Dirty Dike] x2 We take part in a passion with hidden purpose And handle it as part of the pattern We're never nervous Half of it's the rambling madness of clever hermits The other half's embarrassing blaggers that's penning verses Verse 2 [Dabbla] My mind's designed like an assembly line for the rhymes Never slowing production at any time You could put aside 9 months to write your little pantomimes It still gets no shine next to mine They bought a kilo with their alter ego I've got more libido in a swim tuxedo Watch the way you talk to me, though Sicker than a paedo in a pair of Speedos And a J-cloth to wipe the sprays off of my torpedo Dirty Dike and Dabbla Got them in the corner shitting like a soldier suffering Post Traumatic Stress Disorder Style that blessed the aura while you're just a cheesy joker And your battles fall into the category of mediocre So what's the deal with all this rapping over silence Where you banter back and forth about imaginary violence? You ain't fucking with these giants Slice you off a portion of the rawness Rocking like Romanian orphans Hook [Dirty Dike] x2 We take part in a passion with hidden purpose And handle it as part of the pattern We're never nervous Half of it's the rambling madness of clever hermits The other half's embarrassing blaggers that's penning verses