Grand Yorley

Yo, mash up
Sangria Kong, slim

Yo, yo, yo

Check it, game player
Creating simulators, inhaling vapours
Escaping from hazy incubators
The future’s bright, bottled babies in 80s indicators
Living on the lick on the sticky side of the rizla papers
Disfigured ignoramus
Calculate the risks and take ‘em
Slicing my mind into tiny palpitatin’ bits of bacon
Himalayan mountains on the outing through refrigeration
Picking out these splinters from my frost bitten fingers chasing
Death call it boredom, falling from the highest towers
Futuristic prophecies in a garden of dying flowers
Overbake the cake 'til the sweetness of the icing sours
Drown in a glass of uppers that’s been spiked with downers
In a palace of paranoia, six speakers in my school playing samples of California
?? by the sequoia?, I could slap my employer

Pen with the paper, creating visuals
Jetson the painter, indoor head decorator invisible
Depths of the craters lodged into my brain
Jet’s the impaler
The best spitter in the game but I’m destined for failure
Smoking cigarettes, if you don’t like it request an inhaler
Jetson the saviour, pave the way from the west to Australia
Alien rebel head spinning like Tasmanian Devil
Pedal Peruvian pebbles, got my name on a medal
Blue Peter, strap amnesia in the 2 seater
Plus the Metro run like Joey Greco on a new cheater
Who’s he? Who’s me? Shit, I don’t know who either
Wash down 60 mils of Vallies with a fruit breezer
Shit, I’m super human so I supersede you
I'm Duke Nukem, kill your troops and execute your leader
I don’t think these other rappers are saying shit
And I don’t like the way they’re saying it
Fuck ‘em