Am I (feat. Ed Scissortongue)

Dirty [bad word] 
I wack like your first show
Or am I bad like a black magic curse
Nah I’m fat like a burst nose
Clap from the back to the third row
Back-slapping birds
I just a sack of words and some cracked bones
I lost in this bucket full of knuckle heads [bad word] mess scuffles when you’re drunk and there’s nothing said
I missing out on love in my public bed? Rough it
Best trust, but I’m stuck puffing skunk instead
I tough as lead? Cuss what my mother said
Trapped in life’s bread rubbish dust, now we’re hugging less
I causing your husband some sudden stress
Or am I just another bumpkin that’s underdressed
Nonetheless
They say I’m tight like a shrunken vest
Why? Cause I’m [bad word] fresh
Rhyming like drunken 
I trapped in the spiral of drugs and debt
The vinyl that scratch or the cries when you’re mother’s dead
I’m in your mind when it bubbles red
So I’m like 5 tonnes of trouble when there’s nothing left
sick muddle
I a kiss or a big cuddle
I a big fat [bad word] or a sick puddle
I the [bad word] muscle twitch when your [bad word] struggles
This is it, juggle this, grip till I spit rubble
Quick swiftness [bad word]  am I a bit [bad word] Sick as the switchblade gripped by the thick stubble
I normal or am I sane
Should I snorkel my way through the thoughts of my shallow grave
And not pause till I’m back again
I gawping in pain at my war face or am I vain
I the skin of the drum that you’re tapping on
Clap along, let your head snap to a happy song
I a back stage pass or a smile as wide as your fat mate’s [bad word] My rap breaks glass and takes half your mate’s bars
Straight past ancient days and leaves great scars
Leaves great [bad word] scars
I the titbits
The what is this
The hot business whose got spirit
And only stops to rock lyrics
novelist
With a lot of [bad word] in his oesophagus
The doctor said stop but I’m lost so I’ve got to spit
What is this?
And that’s an obvious blag
I Captain [bad word] s colostomy bag
Or a spot in your mag or a slag getting robbed on
God this is mad I’ll just dodge it and plan
To escape the fakes and be free when I suffocate
Nothing’s changed, drunk puffing eights in a [bad word] state
Ed Scissortongue:
I the missing link
Hobbit-feet tree-swinging monkey grin
Tectonic ends of a stone-faced chiselled chin
I the will to win
Like a million men who missioned in the depths of winter to stop [bad word] militia men pillaging their villages
Man am I the village idiot
Who dribbles mic deliverance, spinning the riddled synonyms
Fractured limbs and ligaments
For instance imagination figments illuminate the darkness in the distance
I paddling like ???? in that Dead Man’s curve
Or am I drinking pints of [bad word] just like a bed pan perve
Until my head can’t swerve
Is this the head-case heard
Smuggling birds that across ???? you choose to observe
I that Class dude spitting Class tunes at dark venues
Find me in blacked out back rooms of the man on the moon
Strapping headshoots
While simultaneously cooking up some skag in a spoon
I that cynic with many lyrics
That dabble with existential metaphysics
Questioning the ancient scripts that paint the minds of millions
Or am I another one of many earth-bound spirits
Trying to fight the fear if only to find that they’re made in his image
I just a set of useless shapes and shady remarks
person composed of penny shop parts
Trying to walk the shadiest parks
Wrist-slitters that lay in the bars
I see a red sea embark even Moses couldn’t part with his magical staff
Satanical scars, diagonal charms
See I’m the man to outreach in my mechanical maniacal arms
Spitting cannibal bars
Filled with sicker imagery than a VHS of animal farm
I the man that walks in circles never learning a thing
Almost regressing every second through a blaze before I felt I figured my sins
single organism twitching