[Verse 1: Jam Baxter]
I ain't stupid (naw)
And they MCs, you know who I’m talking about
And they MCs, so heads please
Why you wanna nerdify the scene
'cause you heard some brehs kill it and it turned your mind to green?
Turds in my latrine, clawing at the sides
Lurk in my machine, snorkelling my mind
I was talking to the flies on a warm summer's day
So you can chalk up a storm ’cause I walk unafraid
And I smelled hell, and them days I never felt well
Shells fell from the skies, blind, I would yell help
It never came, but the day I stop breathing's
The day I stop screaming, today I'm not leaving
My chamber pots leaking liquid animosity
Swill a can of horrors and I piss it back as honesty
Distilling like the waragi, swimming in the test-tubes
Head glued to the mirror picking at the flesh wounds

[Hook: Jam Baxter]
So please, why you wanna spit like a neek?
Just let your life drift in the breeze
Punch-drunk off of one fucking beer
Or just under the thumbs of some dumb puppeteer pulling strings
Looking at your life, and it's grim
Butchering the mind of a kid
Sat sipping slit limbs from a chalice, like the cribs of molasses
In your fictional palace now
[Verse 2: Jam Baxter]
I ain't an idiot (naw)
Maybe I kinda am
Maybe I'm living my life tied to a cider can
Mind my saliva gland, flood a fickle sandscape
A rampage of colour comes gushing in a blank space
How's the jam taste? How's the bitter berries?
How’s your fan-base? Or have you quit already?
This shit is messy but they’re acting like it's glorious
Preach to the masses, bruv, patronise your audience
With government this, conspiracy that
Isn’t it brash? Yes it is, bruv, I'm living with that
Deliver the scraps to the door in a bag marked "potential"
I'll whip you up a feast in my black marble temple
Stand half-assembled, ordering parts
From a stack of lost catalogs stored in the past
Gawp at the stars, and wonder if it's all a mirage
If it is, would it matter if I tore them apart?

[Hook: Jam Baxter]
So please, why you wanna spit like a neek?
Just let your life drift in the breeze
Punch-drunk off of one fucking beer
Or just under the thumbs of some dumb puppeteer pulling strings
Looking at your life, and it’s grim
Butchering the mind of a kid
Sat sipping slit limbs from a chalice, like the cribs of molasses
In your fictional palace now