FUCK YA DEMANDS

I FUCKING STONE WOMEN LIKE THE TALIBAN
WHO GIVES A RATS VAGINA WHAT YOUR CUNT OF A BRAIN THINKS
IT'S THE RATS IN YOUR VAGINA THAT MAKE YOUR FUCKING CUNT STINK
BODE CHARACTER, STILL LAUGHING AT YA,
FAKE FOES TRED ONYA TOE AND STILL YOU STAND THERE LIKE A BITCH, DONT YA KNOW?
FUCKING HELLS KIDDZ, STREET FAMOUS, YOU KNOW THE NAMES OF US MATE, JUST ASK OUR FAVOURITE DUTY LAWYERS AND MAGISTRATES.
BEEN ON SOMETHING NASTY OR SICKENING NARCOTICS EVER SINCE TORCH SHOWED ME THE LIGHT, I DROP PHONICS, IN STEREOSONIC, YOU BACKPACKER, WHILE I STATE MY HATE FOR POLICE STATIONS, YOU JUST A FASHION STATEMENT TALKING TO THE POLICE MAKING ACCUSATIONS.





This is where I buried a cat. It got hit by a car really badly. I thought I'd have to hit it in the head with the shovel, but it had bled out. I don't think the sound of bones breaking, regardless of what species it is, is the most arousing sound. The cat belonged to my neighbours in the Homeswest commisions. I had already gone about five foot deep when a guy comes up, hat nearly falling off his head, that it was his aunty's cat, and she'd want to bury it herself. So I left him with it next to the grave I had dug.
As I walked away with my bloody shovel all I could think about was how I'd started a Pet Semetary.

Three days later I found another cat, about seven blocks away, laying exactly the same, with a trickle of blood running out of it's mouth.
I had taken a photo but I ended up deleting it.

Speaking of death, it doesn't stop.
Rest in Peace Rzolt. I wish you weren't so smashed when you got off the train at Perth Station the other week, I could of said goodbye.

YOUR LEFT, LEFT, LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT.

Late night, kicking back by myself, if you want beef I offer up the dopest cuts, like I was selling stomped on packets out the back of my truck, so shut the fuck up, get in line, hate away cos tommorow becomes yesterday, nothing more to say, nothing more to do, trust no bitch and fear no crew, stuck in a rut, sick like a dog, and I ain't no problem pretending crime is a job.

My DJ is in Canada carving powder, damn, and I ain't talking about just snowboarding man. I put this out for my city, I come harder then I go, I do this for the love, you do it for show. Show respect where due, fuck you. Shapeshifters got me lifted like an elevator, catch me pissing on your Lacoste alligator, like they say, worse to blow up early than later.

So I kick it blind in my Dior robe, no need to get baptised, I'm already stoned, just like Sunday dinner I'm roasting when it comes to beef, leading lambs into wolves teeth, I wield a weapon with a rubber handle, and best bet they ain't fucking stilletto sandals, it's that time of year again, it turned the crew from boys to men.

We might be reckless, I'll rather pick a brick up rather than ya dress, dresses can't smash shop fronts, but the cunt beneath can open doors without stunts.



My confidence high, tolerance low.

2 CENT COIN

If there is only Four Horsemen, then why do you follow the Norsemen?

STOP.

Another retirement home sent back from the brink,
another night with my head in the fucking sink,
I wish I could kick the curse but maybe i'm just blessed,
the test, pfft, i passed it when i couldn't be fucked getting dressed,
I'd sit in the dark with a bong and a pen,
wank in my own filth and laugh at Two and Half Men,
the days of my life pass in the blink of an eye,
but I sit with a longneck cursing my pigsty,
a man's home is castle, this much is true,
but what's a guy to do when the stains stay black and your mates stay blue.

I don't double check what I write,
I leave the drips for you toys to decipher right,
so turn right,
you left her with a pair of ripped tights.

PREACH TO THE CHOIR

"Who win the lottery and who meet death?"
Buket TKO.

With all due respect, you ain't an architect, you misdiagnosed, I must correct, you drink tap water in designer bottles devil, I design slaughter for your declining respect level. There ain't no I in team but there's definately a MEAT, and where there's meat, you know there's beef, and where's there's beef there's beef getting meted out, with the money machine yardimean.




































You'll all be kissing their feet tommorow,
Fake mother lovers.
Mother motherfucking lovers.

"You want some beef?
(Toomer hits a gronk twice to the nose)
Anyone else?
Next time mind your own fucking business.
I love when people interfere in other peoples business.
Is that ya sister, ya brother, ya cousin, your roommate?
Then why don't you just shut, the, fuck, up."

Toomer TKO.

YOU DIDNT RAISE ME YOU CRAZY

LOOK AT ME NOW.





REMEMBER WHEN I WAS JUST A LONER
HANGING ON THE CORNER
LOOK AT ME NOW STEADY STACKING CHIPS
NEVER THOUGHT ID LIVE TO SEE THIS SHIT.























I deal with the stress of these streets, and see what I see, I do what you wish you could, but don't, so don't be suprised when the razors at your throat.

Now what I do doesn't seem right at all.

An everyday thing. When you pop, you best pop.
Get down on this like Limbo.
FREE SENZA FREE DOWN FREE SHUFLE.
Fuck this blog.
LOOK OUTSIDE. THERE'S A REALITY TV SHOW GOING ON, QUICK, PHOTOBOMB IT.
Pfft.

YOU EVER HAVE SEX WITH A PHAROAH?

YOU ALL ARE FUCKING PRETENTIOUS FAKE FUCKS WITH NO GUTS/
WHILE YOU WERE ON THE NET GETTING YA GEEK ON/ I WAS ON THE STREET/
GETTING MY FREAK ON