Emib, Bars & Stuff

[Verse 1] Ayo, I am in a maze full of Anabolic cardboard cut outs, That liberate electrons through sweat To then bring Stone Cold stun guns out.. "I love my strolls through the woodland but they proceed to chant 'RUN, FOREST, RUN", It's that time of the month, bloody Writers block, lets me get nothing done, Until I bring some life to my oesophagus Using a sprinkle of coffin dust, Eat on cirrus clouds and cover the m56 in cotton crumbs Then spray, through shapeshifting vandalism Santa's minions puppy eyes I am thee masochistic masseuse Pacifist, toy soldier breeder, Analyst of Che Guevara My shoulders can't take the weight of slush puppy thighs You're just new to the scene like Stevie Wonders eyes It's past tense vision when I say 'seen' underlined So, take a stand on subterranean stilts And skip with your 6 fingers with me into some uranium hills [Hook] So say it with me Emib, Bars & Stuff Still we're seeing, cretins, in cars, with sluts Until celebs, want to, party with us Second spot, is hardly enough (again) Emib, Bars & Stuff Still we're seeing, cretins, in cars, with sluts Until celebs, want to, party with us Second spot, is hardly enough [Verse 2] So look who's back again Back to rapping again Back to passionately practising the pendragon anthem, Back to fixing my quiff in the mirror Back to mixing my carbonated drinks with liquor Back to, fixating over documentaries of prison Snapping back to reality back to back with the man in me Holding on to this happy meal calorie, It's catastrophic how tangible goals liquidise rapidly And this attire that I'm rocking Has even got Christopher Kane's galaxies gravity dropping, Pray on the 25th December It's in your stocking Whilst I pray my girlfriend wears it tonight in nothing but stockings Ironically, solidify your wet dreams And put through the girl next doors windows for being to damn sexy Amsterdam let me Suck off your cafe's horticulture, until my encephalon is empty [Hook] [Verse 3] Liquid metal pockets, molten lava shrapnel, Plus the puppeteers strings have horribly calved my ankles, Life's a deep sea fisherman and he caught me But I evacuated like the premonitions that taunt me, So now.. I will bang like a barrel of boisterous bullets And choke the next brother when I spit out the knots in my stomach Saturday morning, in the usual state Slight dementia so, I am asking who is to blame? Slight dementia so, I am asking who is to blame? Shit I'll still be writing the lullabies with the dust off butterflies Flying out of lucifers cage I was born crying, so there's no way I will die doing the same Research your facts before judging my accent, Or, I'll pop, laxatives in your paracetamol packages The rhetorical answer is?