Dirty Pockets - Rap Blasphemous

A bouncy head nodder from West Midlands spitter Dirty Pockets. Entitled Rap Blasphemous this is apparently a freestyle and features two beats both produced by Dirty Pockets of the Guilty Orphans.

Guilty Orphans


An I wont never never never let you take my soul never take control you’ll never never never taste my gold X2 I’m on the road like camper vans fuckin up your road trip you wish you made different plans, but now we’re here pour the beer an skin a fat one It’s facts im the don in a tetrahedron, bomb, leave em all scattered all gone like a suicidal maniac engrossed in the Quran, armed to the teeth when it’s bars I’m the chief chop the hands off a thief good grief

I bring destruction im Conan a fuckin beast, take you out with one shot you won’t need a priest, your small time fuckin treading on a fine line, i’ve already killed you once but now it’s die time, you can’t rhyme like me a villain 2 face, suffocate you in the boot in a suitcase, your in the dead zone we’re pre pairing headstones if I see you round your getting strangled with my headphones, lord knows you don’t wanna devil dance with a rapper so hard that’ll make you wet your pants, I’ll fuckin throw up on your mixtape an now it’s sick, the only way you’ll ever beat me is never bitch, so don’t be clever an thinkin your rhyme better im reaching my end tether with a featherweight feather, your fake like perspecs hex on your complex I don’t even need to pull the trigger send my prospects

The sick psycho rap god I rap hard they know I’m dope know I don’t give a fuck an know I don’t mic choke, I still toke the ganja green the leaf smoke you don’t want it when I’m high I swear to god you’ll get smoked I’m a lyrical machine, your nothin but a dream, nowhere near my radar don’t exist is what I mean, the full moon howler growling through the fog at midnight jus sit tight an hit like I rip mics like air strikes, I set the stage for a murder scene you ain’t got no say in who I’m killin gang related like a Philippine, cut em clean with a gleam inside my eye sight I’m nice right couldn’t beat me even if you ghost write, I ignite with the force of supernovas your bogus below us motherfuckers don’t know us an they judging, in the game I ain’t budgin, blades the size of swords when it’s time to cut an bludgeon

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.