No Explanation - Cult of The Damned, Lee Scott, Black Josh

Lookin' like a crack smoker

You’re lookin' at rap’s Bram Stoker

Bank rollers like a cash donor hand over

Tryna crack jokers

For the back packs of vultures of rats and roaches

Sat hopeless in the back smokin' hash, hackin' sodas

Tryna get that grand bonus

Damn dozin' Land Rovers

Overflow with dan donors

Banned from all casinos from here to Rio

Ayo a good Mum’s dumb son

At the spar with a copper jar lump sum

On the munch like Tum Tum

The sky looks glum, God’s not happy

I wear a silk suit like a pot rocked tracky

From the can piped vinyl hash hybrid

I’d get smashed and buy with me last five quid

Awkward but a nice kid

I lose sleep and find it, in the corner of an eyelid

Alright lid?

Cause it seems you’re not

It’s 'me o’clock', lost but I don’t need a plot

Elitist, I blast classic Master P shit

Lookin' like a Jesus e-fit

COTD clique, want it, fleece it

Now you don’t need to read the secret

It’s all crystal clear from here

Life is a beach with white sand a beer in your hand man

All praise the Brick Peli Posse Crew Gang fam (x2)

Blah records got the UK saggin' proud

Passin' loud, drinkin' dragger style

Still wearin' hand me downs

Or you could call them vintage clothin'

Fuck about, the (YACK YACK) will leave the linage soakin'

All my niggas know kid, watch my wrist in motion

Whippin', mixin' potions

Got your chick to open up her legs to pump to all me sweg

And now she’s fuckin' with the best, cause I don’t cum for nothin' less

Show no comfort to this guest

Got this skunk up in my head

Now i’m paranoid and beef over the cash cow

Leave your man destroyed and don’t keep the peace so back down

Are your plans of boy tryna top the league get slap down

Yeah you wonder boys are weak

You couldn’t make the last round

I get it crackin' like chapped lips white raftin'

Puttin' dick to your girl’s mouth like chap stick

I’m ransid, if you meet my maker you should thank him

Have a banquit and toast to the food for thought we slangin'

Oh boy, shit got me feelin' like Camron i’m damn wrong

Or dang strong, got mad aim, the strap long

D-d-dick so big that she thought it was a strap on

Blah records, fuck you other labels, man we back on

'Bout to put this shit on mine and Josh’s back

You could say we back strong

I fuck your ma and tell your nan to suck a fat one

I’m with the hoolagins about to put my gang on

About that bang bang, shoutin' out my crew name

Nine Eight Trayed up, but i’m (?)

Lased my spinach with butane

Blow it in your boo’s face

Champagine tooth paste

Night slum, boobs laced

G stash it like its cool cause it is now

Pissin' out perscription drugs in your bitch mouth

My new bitches dad sent me cause he’s arian

Said he wished death upon my kids cause she was wearin' 'em

How’d you hear about him?

Oh, you’ve heard about him?

Who told you about him?

No one even knows him

No one’s even seen him

Unless they were supposed to

Unless there was a meeting that was cleared with the olders

And even then I don’t see

How you’d convince the jury

Of what you thought you saw, but didn’t see

Don’t even lie to me

Why would I believe a fabrication such as that?

Who’s to say it wasn’t?

But who’s to say it wasn’t?

Who’s to say it wasn’t plagerism posin' as him?

Who’s to say I won’t dismiss this for lack of evidence?

Unless you produce a witness who’s slightly credible

Even then I don’t, see how I can entertain

Further lines of inquiry down memory lane

He’s a mistery, mythical, the stuff of fairy tale

And the further you go, the lesser you know

Some things best left unknown