Saturday, July 31, 2010

The Good News.

What a last few weeks months whatever.
I've had toys, chompers, gotten done and done stompers.
Back to the grind, in all ways, shapes and forms,
Invading the girls dorms through laptop storms.
Dear John,
Do not ever, come home.

Fucking, what a life.
Life is like a box of chocolates. If you get too hot you meltdown, into a weird marbled chocolate lump of rehardened cocoa and milk.

These cats creep around like they got the crown, forlorn when feens feign the reign,
At least make it legal to marry your cousins.

And that's the good news.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Four Minutes.

Dingbats be on some fairy tale dream shit,
It's all good mate, you've been greenlit.
It's all crocodile smiles and metaphor denials from masters of manipulation. Vocabulary based self worth justifiers of self taught paced liars.

A soul ain't a soul without one.
The decible level hit homebaked homebase, the crowd watched as the only runner came second place.
Your shit seems so forced, so unviable,
There might be a market, but you selling out,
It's undeniable.
Presenting free proof to all troops regardless of caste, colour, crew or creed,
So brace yourself in for your fifteen seconds,
Ride dick, ride fixies, ride coat tails,
Ya reckon?

Tuesday, July 27, 2010


You like a butterfingered second hand shop employee, dropping the donations like names, your play for fame,
All the hard knocks you say you got, I have to reiterate son, you just losing the plot, to a reality TV show you ain't even on, so what the fucks going on?
Your paranoia made your brain go walkabout,
Real talk, real strong, raised on Brussel Sprouts,
So be like the ninties band and have No Doubt,
When I swag through town it's plain to see clout,
So you shoulda thought about that before you opened ya mouth, I don't care what you are, who your friends know or who's ya familia,
I got a crate full of hate and a freestyle abilty that will kill ya.
I make claims like insurance but it wasn't a spinal injury so I can back them up, so neck up parrot,
You like Rabbit,
I'm like snatch it and grab it then dack it.
No competition,
No definition, go back to the kitchen.

Smoke more herbs, and when I say herb I mean it like a diss, like the fakery and trickery you tend to see, the forged mirroredl mask of true identity, I got crew who make beats, I got crew who make beatings, let me know next time you want beef, I'll buy them front row seating, cos I ball while you fall, you fell from Grace now you fallen flat, and you coming at me with some I take more drugs than you crap?

You ain't enlightened, you just frightened, while I be balling like a drop punt, I'll even pay to fly Billie Jean back from Melbourne just to watch her stomp your cunt.
So what gives?
I can be rude like that and give you plenty of ammo to fire back,
I shouldn't even retaliate, your shit was keyboard warrior wack, played out like an OG NES controller, So I got a Duck Hunt gun ready to make your pixels fold over.

"Insults are the best compliments."
AND ITS NOT AS IF I GIVE TWO FIFTHS OF A WHOLE FUCK, try ya luck, I engage the viewer of the page, you just rage and pine for centre stage.

I said I wouldn't but I did.
Let's see how far this goes.
Hopefully to Hell and back.
Then there might be a bit of an understanding.

Trinity Old Kunts Association 04.

Monday, July 26, 2010

Love Me Sexy by Jackie Moon.

My wrist no watch, just a reminder,
Drugs aren't the answer but they make people seem kinder,
If you got something to say lad, say it to my frilly lace,
And if you don't comprehend my slang then you won't be keeping up the pace,
Like the kid from the Smoking ads, you be outside of the party, try step inside, get a sideswipe from Marty,
Cos he's just one of the members of the cult and boy, we got plenty more, established from Perth, migrated to Adelaide, Melbourne, London and Singapore.
I know a guy who knows a guy who can get me something on the cheap,
Can't blame a guy for just trying to eat,
Feed whatever habit you got, like stuffed nuns and potatoes, migrate upwards like scrolling back in Halo.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

My Eyes Bleed.

Diabetic kids stare out windows of grey death, atop skylines of haze created by plastic silverware using cigarette smokers.
Eyes need drops, names don't. I never wanna be like you. I never fake the funk, I just prefer the junk.
I'm not as ill as a cancerous cyst but you still get the jist, decipher the wordplay, end up with a cryptic crossword clenched fist.
We can drop the car at the airport after we've done over the servo, no disguise, and be on a plane overseas sipping Jose Cuevo before they realise, what a trip, let me express my shit a little bit.
So you roll with phony friends turned feens, so what, I'll drop a globe on the carpet and watch 'em scarper, you lost the plot.
Cos when you hooked on the crystal, you done for,
You'll end up 50, buying a bead shop, on the foreshore.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010


Cooperate or diet. We will surrender all foreign plant material to the airport bins, and the virus capsule you just got off gave everyone the next Swine Flu. The sheep farmer needs a wife, and not to massacre INXS.
Wanna choke while we fuck?
Why not try your luck?
The celebrity culture you revel in,
The slit you poke the devil in,
Touched by an angel or touched by a priest,
What are YOU thinking, is it beyond belief?
Beyond deceit with no receipt, talk turkey like Sarah Palin, ain't no choice bit repeat cadence no failing, blur my face and recognize me even after, this ain't The Warriors, your crew cause laughter.
I run the block, you laughing stock, you gamble away your profit, I'm taking it straight out your pocket.
You give head to the head of state, I stand in the Oval Office and masturbate, have another vodka comrade, you won't feel a thing, except when I run up on you and you feel a sting, sing, sing the fuck along, because at the end of the day it's just another hit from the bong.

Monday, July 19, 2010

TV Dinner Sinner.

Transformer tenure on the tedium of the medium,
Unscrupulous foals ridden by unfocused jockeys,
Ivan Milat and the end game of Ice Hockey,
None of the Bullwinkle, stop giving it the big un',
Cos' even after I've unleashed the beast it ain't begun,
Started? I ain't never finished, you, the quality has diminished. Consult your therapist if you need a helping hand,
The ends to a mean means I'm ending you out,
Pimping, your shout, balls out so bitch pout.
Got an aerial shit shooter pulling clay pigeons,
Shooting NERF guns at your incredibly bad decisions,
It's a horrible idea, bitch you leave me nausous,
Fuck your life, mine's a movie, debaucherous.

Saturday, July 17, 2010


You might think you floss, that you paid a cost to be the boss,
But all your mouth play ain't meaning shit,
When every word you spray is bit.

I roll up on you, no plates, masked face,
Outsmarted on the street, bwap BWAP, no amount of faith,
Cos the only thing you run is the human race,
Into the ground, to the scene, YOU DISGRACE.

Your wack throwback shit died for a reason, look,
Get a handstyle, not a graffiti colouring in book.
Botched up Botox bitches hang on my every word,
Like my dictation of the dictionary became a dirty deity and the bi-dykey dimes keep on chasing me.

An accident is hate, and hate is divided evil,
Thus emotions are a minus,
Plus, you will never be considered equal.

Hold your breathe for the sequel.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

My Patch.

Like a smoking jacket, I got some patches,
Some I farm, some are protected with hatchets.
Ego self love mutilated razor masturbation,
Cos the last identification I recieved from the boys at Flinders Station, it's obvious to the culture you are the laughing stock of the nation.
Cause for elation, a cause for effect, affected by the titanic ritual, I rocked hand me downs that didn't fit me well.
Straight From Hells Kitchen,
Unstoppable Posse.


Up in the lab, no need for pre fab.
Swallow the truth and a handful of Xanax.
You know what time it is.
Welcome to the shrine, the delete button.
The drop, wait for it, it's coming soon, to a theatre near you.
Breed all over my sheets, sex is just for bleeding.
Let me tie your conciousness down to the bed with cable ties I bought from Cable Ski.

In the shade, the knight looked like it had been through a gay pride parade.
Go kill yourself already.


Friday, July 9, 2010

Toys built the Pyramids.

Next time get it right, put the http at the front,
Thanks for the free promo.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

The surviving text is jibberish.

Blood sucking vampire needle carrying night crawlers,
Sprawled on city streets drinking longies zombie speaking fight talkers. Rats, learn. You ain't on my level, escalate while you regulate, I machine and devestate while you make statements, your gen are snitches, your whole crew front but deep down bitches, you make me nauseous and your cell mate pitches,
I'm digging dirt while your pissing Gatorade, I made no time for your lines cos people get sick of your old times.
You scene hoppers, go shopping get yourself a gun,
Cos rap in the trap, cunt, it's back to 1991.

Spin wheels and photocopy my style, shit be obvious,
And all I do is hit keys when I'm high as helicopters,
A gift east you see, the evolutionary key,
But if you keep fucking with me, I got you penned as incorrect, mentally.

By the way, it's a present for a friend of mine,
More boat people, more police funerals.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010


Defecate on the midget, look what you've gone and done now. The favourite weapon was wordplay and the scythe you brought can't bring pain, stop trying to claim fame, we operate on different planes, different tanks and different cranes,
Because after today,
The Internet is never the same.

The DVD plays in the background.
Dear Diary.
Voyueristic, let's make this simplistic, I love candy, I eat it with a dipstick.
No heater, no job, no reason, pure slob.
Fantastic like cup noodles, so put the kettle on love,
I saw what you did and I'm still one step above.
Nine years with a cat of nine tails, epic wins and epic fails.