On The Edge Pt. 2 feat. Fliptrix, Jam Baxter & Karizma
VERSE 1: VERB T
I’m on the edge son I’m on the edge I creep by without a trace Hiding in the dark, see the eyes without the face Seeing skeletons climbing out of graves Death leaps from the page when my mind is out the cage Brains get invaded Grey matter taken as hostage Kamikaze – I’m in the cockpit Accosting clouds that want to ? Man they trying to eavesdrop Quick get the bug spray I went to class; I was high in the back Now I’m controlling with the flow like Poseidon In fact people just can’t let go Hooked so bad on them things that they can’t have Driving them mad I’m a prick, my woman’s giving me shit Mind gone and I’m feeling kinda physically sick Fucking broke and this hunger’s still gripping my ribs I’m on the edge and I think I just officially flipped
VERSE 2: FLIPTRIX
I’m on the edge like the side of a table bed Stable, switching out in a violently wild, hate-filled strange moon Take two of the Q and break it down To fill the plate with food Don’t move Flipping out like a pancake out of a frigging pan Flicking knives in the face of the rappers that all think they’re nang Judgement’s fucking clouded like they’re Dad told them they're Peter Pan Better not be long cos I be running on the metre man Get duppy like a yuppie buying drugs out of a pizza van It’s all a sham, get beaten by defeat, the planet’s seeing black Heads shake, my neck breaks, ah that’s really bad Act like that, we’re really mad Pints of rum is all I’ve had Slice my lungs to bring some flavour Man it’s all gone really blam Peel my skin like oranges to try reveal the cleaner man Proof is in the pudding but don’t bite me cos I’m poisonous Digestion of the truth will make you question why we all exist
VERSE 3: JAM BAXTER
It's the common use for a fist The random use for a wall A heap of spent shell cases Teeth chewing them all Do me a favour: hold my tongue for a sec So I can use my free hands to clutch at your neck Ten rabid hounds Nine leather gags Slowest one screams Drown it in a bag Tantrum in a shoebox Balanced on the crag And adapted for the big screen Fury of a scab It's the very-edge regular I'll have the usual dear A surge of your simmered blood Right between the ears Cheers Let's hear it for the scalp diggers union Disallowed leaks since the day of their recruitment Picket sign swinging Rats playing snap Same gnarled hands flamming every card in the pack That snarling attack screams live from the precipice The smart money's betting on the brer on the edge of it
VERSE 4: KARIZMA
I’m getting joke off the ganja Stoned on the ginger wine Dying with my inner anger Cos I’m living on the edge It’s a warning that I’m taunted by these visions of me flying Straight towards the cess I feel like jumping off a window ledge Looking in the mirror ask myself “Why am I a mess?” “Am I a sinner, loving my life here up in the west?” Type of shit that critics typing when they vexed You little Internet wankers, I’m not complying with the rest All you Internet gangsters do not wanna be on my mind when I am stressed I find wherever you rest via the IP address And I don’t need a knife, don’t need no tech I’m an animal, no time for talking, pushing a porcupine in your chest In my pocket got a swordfish, put some slices on your neck Take you to safari watch a lion fuck a lioness Make you take a closer look, I’m on the edge If you aint convinced I’ll make you minced I push your face through the wire fence