Posh British Boy Raps in Self-Isolation

[Intro: MC Hammersmith]
Em hello, em
My name's Will I'm from middle class west London
Hammersmith specifically
I've been self isolating away from corona virus for three weeks now
Which has given me a lot of time t-to pop some questions
Like ''Could I ever write a rap?''

[Verse 1: MC Hammersmith]
Empty from the top down
When I look across town
Living in a compound
City is on lockdown
Trying to contain all the sickness inside
But I gotta be letting it out that's why I'm spitting these rhymes
Had a lot of thoughts in self-isolation
Like ''Could I ever be the next rhyme sensation?''
What an ambition, I'm posh and from Britain
But to ponder my vision, here's some tosh that I've writtеn
I'm intergalactic, I'm Mister Fantastic, my lyrics are magic, and quick and еrratic
My spit is elastic, my liver is plastic
I'm so fucking hard that my dick is metallic
I'm whipping a frantic and sinister tactic
I'm ripping the fabric of friggin' semantics
And this is a classic, your shit is dramatic
I'll bury you dead like the flippin' Jurassic
I'm polite but I still spit a vulgar rap
I'm street but the street is a cul-de-sac
Posh and gangsta, that is my fashion
I've never smoked crack, but I have smoked salmon
For flippin' the lyrical rhythm I've got the rawest appetite
I'm so out of this world I rub my balls on satellites
My words are even sharper than a fat katana sabre
And I'll serve you even faster than a Wagamama's waiter
A man on a mission while I rap with precision
My dick is so big it needs planning permission
A rapid endeavour, you're 'bout to crack from the pressure
The way I'm shredding shit, it's like I shat in a shredder
I'm the sickest lyricist to ever spit and kick a freestyle
I've got all these whack rappers up on my speed dial
I call them up and I put them to the test:
Ring, ring ''Hello''
Fuck you I'm the best
They've got no talent, not even a modicum
These rappers are cigarettes, I drag 'em then stomp on 'em
I rap for myself and I rap for my sins
And I rap so sick, I'll take you out like the bins
Wanna battle me, I'm totally legit
It's one sided from all angles: Möbius strip
I'm the one they gotta fear, burning the ionosphere
Rappers will never get rid of me like gonorrhoea
Shine like palladium when I'm in the stadium
Rhyming gymnasium inside of my cranium
I'm white and middle class but I always pleasure rooms
So fuck you, I got more bars than Wetherspoons
I won't shelf this biz, I'll grow in stealth then blitz
The rap game 'til it's dead or blow myself to bits
Because every other rapper is a selfish bitch
And I'll make them hot and clammy like a shellfish bisque
I'm a figure skater, you're a shitty faker
You've got lots to prove like a busy baker
There's never ever been a greater motherfucking innovator
And I'll mash you up like this patater
I'll turn you to slush with the words that I crush
I'm stacking up bars like I'm working in Lush
Think I'm too posh to rap, well you're not alone
But I'll scramble your assumption to make you purists moan
Every word I spit is such a grand appetiser
I am more in demand than fucking hand sanitiser
Which is ironic, because I'm the lyricist
With some of the world's filthiest rhymes at my fingertips
Smashing some turbulent, facts that are pertinent
Slashing the wax in a pattern that's permanent
Rappers that murmur get rapidly murdered with
Dazzling raps that I snatch from the firmament
Timidly slipping I think that you're clicking
No matter how vicious and thrilling and
Quick as I'm spitting, the trick is admitting
You'd still be licking the shit that my dick is emitting
So, could I ever be the world's greatest lyricist
I really am quite good at spitting a sweet bar
I think I might need to sound a little less privileged
I'll work on it...once I finish this quinoa