Awkward posh English man spits fire rap at kitchen table

[Intro: MC Hammersmith]
Hello, em, em, sorry, I'm not eh
Not very good with intros
Sorry that wasn't em, I get nervous
Swallow saliva
Like many of us I've had a lot of spare time lately
So I've recently decided to become a rapper
Eh so I've written a rap, eh I've written a rap
It's a sort of hip hop em...
Anyway here it is
Em I also appreciate that a posh, middle class, English accent like mine
Might not be what many people associate with hip hop but em I'll do my best, here we go

[Verse 1: MC Hammersmith]
Watch me step up to the mic looking hairy and muscular
Dick swinging, balls in the air like a juggler
Posh motherfucker, dropping sweet bombs
I don't beef with rappers, I filet mignon
Stepping against me as I'm lyrically blitzin'
Is counter-productive like fitting a kitchen
My rapping is so military, I'm actually a visionary
I come hard with words like I'm wanking on a dictionary
When it be coming to rhymes, you know that I've got them in dollops
Rappers that try to be stepping to me will get lyrically punched in the bollocks
I'm posh but I'm gangsta, it's getting alarming
I'm bordering street like accessible parking
I'll trap these insects: that's flypaper
If you draw I'll end you, that's a tie-breaker
Get you high as fuck: that's a skyscaper
And I'm going in buzzing: that's a vibrator(rah!)
You motherfuckers are about to get beaten
I'll school you so hard you'll get accepted to Eton
I'll school you once with my viscous aggression
Then double down like twins with depression
Rappers hate I sound so middle class on the beat
They call me a pussy: well, you are what you eat
Yeah I had sex with your lady, you'll shout ''Oh goodness''
When she comes back reeking of that organic hummus
The ladies look at me and say I'm defs the hottest
They give me big wood: Thetford Forest
The ladies wanna do me as I harden downward
I've got sugar on the side like I'm Margaret Mountford
Racking the paper and my shagging is major
I'm appealing in the sack like a bag of pataters
My girl is checked out 'cause she's the hottest
Your girl is checkout manager at Londis
Ladies ask me for four fingers like a Kit Kat
Fuck so hard that my balls have a six pack
Ladies wanna crawl all over me like a lizard
Even though I resemble an accountant boy wizard
My rhymes are so magic and my flows are so seamless
Every booth I step in is a Chamber of Sweetness
Rhymes so hot Dumbledore will enquire
If I put my mixtape in the Goblet of Fire
I'm a one man gang, flabbergast with rap slang
Disagree then you're a fat wang
Flash bang, hear the gat rang
Yeah I've got a gun I swear
I'll put clips to your head like I'm styling your hair
When I be rolling with my rifle there's no greater view
I got the Hawke on board like Pro Skater 2
My rifle brings heat like a massive cooker
This AK's a beauty: Ashton Kutcher
My AK shoot's hard and it's properly bad
I'll raise the 47 like I've adopted your dad
Me and my crew pull triggers so quick
It's like we're making new friends the way we instantly click
Break into my house my gun'll be smoking
I trigger on my turf: JK Rowling
And if me rapping about these guns disturbs
My guns not real I was just having fun with words
Your raps are shit and I do the damage
You're an inbred melt like a tuna sandwhich
I'm a real warrior, a motherfucking warrior
A real warrior, anxiety's a bitch
Been wild since a child and crazy since a baby
And been a headliner ever since I was a minor
Infamy since infancy, fatal since pre-natal
And sicker than cholera since I was a toddler
Uh, I dress cool so the people say ''wowzers''
I'm fly on principal: headmaster's trousers
Wanna battle me, here's advice for the arena:
Concentrate, or you'll get buried: Ribena
They say hip hop comes in many different forms
And there's so many ways to truly fucking boss this
Well, I come in many forms
Now I'm banned from the Post Office
Spitting sick lyrics is what I'm doing on regular
I'll show these whack rappers that their skills are not premier
I'll burn the microphone to a really hot temperature
I really like fish, non sequitur(rah!)
That's the end of my lyrical tapestry
I'm so real, every other rapper is imaginary
Spit sick tracks 'cause my shit's tremendous
Serving you with bangers like an English breakfast