Future Posse Cut One Thousand by Dirty Dike (Ft. BVA, Datkid, Dr Syntax, Edward Scissortongue, Fliptrix, Jam Baxter, Leaf Dog, Mr Key, Stig of the Dump & Verb T)
Future Posse Cut One Thousand by Dirty Dike (Ft. BVA, Datkid, Dr Syntax, Edward Scissortongue, Fliptrix, Jam Baxter, Leaf Dog, Mr Key, Stig of the Dump & Verb T)

Future Posse Cut One Thousand

Dirty Dike & Leaf Dog & Fliptrix & Mr Key & Edward Scissortongue & Jam Baxter & Verb T & Datkid & BVA & Dr Syntax & Stig of the Dump * Track #8 On Return of the Twat

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Future Posse Cut One Thousand by Dirty Dike (Ft. BVA, Datkid, Dr Syntax, Edward Scissortongue, Fliptrix, Jam Baxter, Leaf Dog, Mr Key, Stig of the Dump & Verb T)

Release Date
Tue May 14 2013
Performed by
Dirty DikeLeaf Dog & Fliptrix & Mr Key & Edward Scissortongue & Jam Baxter & Verb T & Datkid & BVA & Dr Syntax & Stig of the Dump
Produced by
Pete Cannon
Writed by
Leaf Dog & Fliptrix & Mr Key & Edward Scissortongue & Jam Baxter & Verb T & Datkid & BVA & Dr Syntax & Stig of the Dump & Dirty Dike

Future Posse Cut One Thousand Lyrics

[Intro: Phone Conversation: Manager & Dirty Dike]
I was thinking like we just, all get together, in between now and when we it out and just all get pissed in Holloway and just like have a cypher in the booth and just record it and then just like mash up a couple of like, you know like minute and a half pieces and bits of cyphering, and then that's like exclusive freestyle shit cause the kids love that
Yeah yeah yeah. that sounds good
And then that's, that's 500 quid
Shit son
Basically, guaranteed no brainer
We could just spend that on strawberry daiquiris and mopeds
Exactly that's booze money
Ehehe. I'm rentin' a moped. Deff. We've got'a get some motorbikes
Shit, the last time I was in a moped I was like "weeewrereeeeeeggghh waaaahhhh"
Yeah, uh, it's all..It's all distorted..
And its awkward, I stab an orphan with an orchid
And pork sword it, then I feed it to a swordfish
Awesome shit, shaving a pasty
I'm raping David Blaine with an ashtray
He's like, "Please stop it"
He's Wallace and she's Gromitt
Bangin' on the moon, strangle a baboon
Kick him in the fanny then I bang it with a broom
I'm in lesbian prison
Dying on my own, cryin' at the throne
Violent with the bone
Pull the bone off and snap if in half
I'm just havin' a laugh
Are we ready?
[Scratching]
Are we ready?
Are we ready?
I'm just havin' a laugh
Are we ready?
R-r-ready
I I I I I-I'm just havin' a laugh

[Verse 1: Dirty Dike]
These years are gold years, I won't ever be rich
Fuck a life I'ma live mine whatever it is
I'll get in a whip and drive like a hedonist prick
Forgettin' I'm pissed and high not to mention the sniff
I never question what I got in my brain
I'm not afraid, I'm the most honest nov' in the game
With a gob like a drain, I'm obnoxious and lazy
And still gettin' props in a cotch full of ladies, baby
And I ain't gonna play unless you pay me
And make me a shake eggs bacon or baked beans
Never catchin' feelings actin' weak and all emotional
I simply catch a beat when I'm erratic and I vocal all
Sociable, overly so, but fuck passive
I chat shit loads and you know my tongue's magic
My drug habit and clothes are both free
Till I come home blagging in this homeless bloke's jeans

[Verse 2: Stig of the Dump]
Hi, (Hello) my names Steven (What?)
Would you like a little bit of company this evening? (Uh)
You can bring the wine (Ooh) I'll get the cheese and (Lovely)
Nah fuck that let's get absolutely steaming!
Tell the bouncer I'ma bring a gram of weed in
Back stage at a rave with the grave chief'n
Bag a bag of beef till I start to lose the feelin' in my face
Smash the place till we're hangin' from the ceiling
(Team Hate!) Team Hate, SMB, that's the link-up
Truck a load but the whole party stink up
There's a prize at the bottom love, drink up
Fuck the respect, I want the money and my dick sucked
Hawaiian shirt on my back (Splash)
Cool Runnings, rockin' that John Candy swag
In fact what you want is penis
So I tell her that she's better on top like my team is

[Verse 3: Dr Syntax]
Whose that dashing young exec making power moves in the board room
Who told his secretary to never put your calls through? Not me
But picture that level of ignorance
And triple it and I will still be more rude, fuck your crew
I'm like Jaws, you're more like Jaws 2
Same sorta thing, not as good, poor you (Aww)
I'm like Bishop but with more juice
Unzip my flies then I put them in your soup (Word play)
Word to my potential unborn kids
Rappers forfeit and turn yellow like jaundice
Don't like my shit? Well horses for courses
But my guess is you're the sort of prick
Who thinks ballin' would be scorin' with a Geordie Shore chick
During a Majorca trip you probably saw her in The Sport, that cost 40 quid
My name is Dr. Syntax I'm on some awesome shit
But you already knew that didn't you, of course you did

[Verse 4: BVA]
It's pannin' out and I ain't found no gold yet
Find me where the surface is wet but there's no mould yet
I'm all in and rappers start to fold bets the stage before an old vet
Puttin' holes in circles where the soul left
Blow clefts through smoke rings to test my aim
Don't play notes just B flat linin' them again
Keep what I C sharp 'cause this world can get insane
Fuck lies, fuck blame, fuck pride, fuck shame
I'm a simple creature, gimme a dame and big sack of reefer
And I'll smile like my dicks making a mouth deeper, a west of sav speaker
Spring a leak in a steady flow to zone on another bangin' Dike feature
Shit I might teach ya, might not
Might make you spack out and kick a hole in your right speaker
Tryina make this music ugly but beautiful
So kids go "eurgh!", but not the head because it's musical

[Verse 5: DatKid]
So.. if you hate my guts you can choke on my balls
And I'll take a picture of it just to post on your wall
I ain't blaggin' you up, trust me I'm an arrogant cunt
A savage a drunk fuck and apparently scum
Just because I get my kick out of embarrassing chumps
And taggin' their drums, yeah I'm a vandal for fun
Smokin' fags just to damage my lungs
Screamin' life's too short while I'm necking neat brandy and rum
I do music for a livin', I ain't gettin' a job
Who the fuck's gonna employ a stole veteran slob
That turns up to his midday shift at 7 o'clock
And pisses in the boss's office while he's telling him off?
So you can catch me lookin' smashed with a spliff and a beer
Feedin' a fat heffer chicken while I'm lickin' her ear
It's 5 AM and my mission is clear, I need to bust a fuckin' nut
And there ain't no other women in here

[Verse 6: Verb T]
Aye yo man I hold weight and control these fakes
Eatin' chocolate cake, sippin' a protein shake
Fat face flows, and the track plays through
All these fake little rats in the trap they chose
V to the fucking E to the fucking R to the B
The initial is T, I'm fuckin' large
That's right, we rock homeless fashion
Might spit into the crowd show no compassion
Fools imaginations are overactive
Oh you're actin', I'll burn you and mold the plastic
To a new shape, two face, fuck the fake hype
A new aim too shame struck with snake bite
Venom in the veins, sendin' them insane
Rushin' through the blood, intended for the brain
So you'd do well to remember these damn names
It's the new faces of the derelict campaign

[Verse 7: Jam Baxter]
Screamin' in the face of every screen and peen receiver
Was the Baxstar starkers in the field of steaming ether
Yeah you see him, crack hands mahoosive on a slappin' spree
Slug a slug backward off the Travel Tavern balcony
So how could she watch her personality evaporate
Curdle in the corner and contaminate a tanqueray
With tears, tears, bitter sweet tears
While we're fuckin' up the jam, with a spliff in each ear
This year, shits getting fucking fucked up
Round 2 acid prawn summer uncut
See the top shelf smut barren plummet untouched
From the sky settle safely in the blood and guts bruv
Well done, recruiting for my rebel terror cell
Selling second hand remains from the day heaven fell
And congealed in the kitchen of every desert hell
Is a mouldy eyed chief in a cracked metal shell let's move

[Verse 8: Edward Scissortongue]
These are the words that my brain is tellin' me to stick down
On a shitty crumbled ugly fuckin' piece of paper
I was thinking what the fuck he's goin' on about
But it just told me to shut the fuck up and ignite the flavor
So I listen to the feeble flappin' muscle in my skull
And put the pen back to the sheet until the ink would fit
To be honest everything I've ever written in my life has been abysmal
(Why?) 'Cause I'm a stupid heap of shit, I'm such a dick
The most selfish twat you'll ever meet, trust me
Ask any person that I have ever known
In my entire life and they'll confirm that Edward Scissortongue
Is hands down the biggest fucking cunt inside the country
Plus I'm fucking stingy, I top load my zoots
And I won't drive you home to the village to the city
I swear to god that if you look at me again
I'll shit my pants and start flinging fucking flaming lumps like frisbees

[Verse 9: Mr. Key]
Oi toss pot do you watch whats Top Of The Pops?
Nah, I cotch with Dot Cotton hot boxin the dots
And what, I'm not bothered if apocalypse drops
I'll be fox trotting bollocks with a bottle of scotch
With god's comet? Stop waffling 'cause probably not
Shop coffas shop shottas got us watchin' a clock
Scotch bonnet hot molotov off the top
To polyphonic pop sonics, rock proper or what?
I'm on a mission, that isn't shit to do in spittin' writtens
I'm tryna bring a difference to kids in bitter Britain
If you ain't got the time to take to listen to the wisdom
Then I ain't got the time to waste to kill the cynicism
I never had the time of day for givin' it the big 'en
When I spit, I spit it sick for the spirits of inhibition
It's the Mr. Kizzakizzum with a dirty double D cup
A pair of massive tits keep smugglin' your peanuts

[Verse 10: Fliptrix]
It's Big Flips the dangler, microphone damager
Goin' through the green like a mutha fuckin' rambler
Head's spinnin', metaphorical jazz
Still steppin' on the road rockin' nothin' but old rags
Tees I've had for years and my jeans that are so sag
Got particles of dust in the wallet but no cash
All the dough I had i done spend it on chro' bags
Mixed it up with pizz until memories fade to black, it's
Pointless to repent when there's no way to go back
Like a fetus in a jar after a car crash
Disaster's a par fact, I'm pavin' them bars of hash
While you're screwin' at your zoogie complainin' of hard ash
You're a rookie I'm a lad, look at me I pay in cash
Cause I'm fillin' out this venue the fans are just fuckin' fab
I'm a smash like glass on the concrete when it be dash
Real rapper bring it back, call it zoogie man slide

[Verse 11: Leaf Dog]
You can guarantee that Leaf is high
So many clouds in my room it's like my house is above the sky
No lie that's my life never lost a love
Son I put it on to beat like a boxer's glove
Workin' the sub like I'm in the Navy
You know the claps comin' like when the crowd's goin' crazy
Son of Lee son of Davey
Bring a summary like there's war comin' lately
That's how these cunts made me
I don't feel that hip-hop's represented
The music for the poor stood where the rich sent it
They're a joke and never been a lyricist
The closest thing to seeing pussy was the mirror images
Don't take the risk cause you ain't half as nice
And will remain unknown like the secrets of the after life
In a world trying to search for the answer
A riddle through your mind just like a brain cancer

[Outro: Dirty Dike]
Ah hahaha haaaaa haaaa haaaaaa

Future Posse Cut One Thousand Q&A

Who wrote Future Posse Cut One Thousand's ?

Future Posse Cut One Thousand was written by Leaf Dog & Fliptrix & Mr Key & Edward Scissortongue & Jam Baxter & Verb T & Datkid & BVA & Dr Syntax & Stig of the Dump & Dirty Dike.

Who produced Future Posse Cut One Thousand's ?

Future Posse Cut One Thousand was produced by Pete Cannon.

When did Dirty Dike release Future Posse Cut One Thousand?

Dirty Dike released Future Posse Cut One Thousand on Tue May 14 2013.

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