Jam Baxter – Eggs Feat. Dabbla (Klaar Remix) (AUDIO)

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Comment (13)

  1. [Verse 1: Jam Baxter]
    If a clown can bake a pie full of flies in his house today
    And sell slimy slices for a fiver to a crowd of apes
    Then I can fry an egg and call it God if I want to
    Sunny side down, trodden, scoff it like its mange tout
    Puke that straight up and shot it like a nine bar
    Scoop the remains up and flog it like it's fine art
    It's all in the name son, it's all just the same young sir
    Just words I'm contorting to shapes
    Some days seem stranger than fiction can ever be
    Especially when I've been yammin' trips with my breakfast tea
    So I was like boom, what's with the snake skin?
    Better keep schtum, the Gods are deflating
    That shoe for the mountains, views are astounding
    Loose in the cloud where the monsters are waiting
    Dead flesh fading, what's that curling around my spine like hot crack burning
    Swamp rat vermin emerging again
    Better boot out now to return to the end, like rah
    What a super-stellar par
    View forever shrink into a single second
    Misdirect 'em through the centre
    Futures never happen like the maggots might like 'em to
    One day you're chewing wounds the next that's what you're obliged to do
    If I were you I wouldn't take it
    Burn your allegiance, lie to their faces
    Gather that up, slappin' that sludge on the skyline
    Look man's finally made it, high rise mazes
    What's that snaking around his tongue better watch man changing
    Combat training, dead man dancing
    Squash that craving, let's get marching

    [Verse 2: Dabbla]
    It's like my girl's parallel parking
    Shit's never gonna fit so I squeeze in
    Release from the belly of the beast
    I be banging on my chest and you'd best to believe it
    Swinging from the rooftop baby
    Hanging out on the porch all evening
    Bangin' on a big fat hootenanny
    With a granny in the lap, lean all up in the cup like (Where?)
    Smoke all in the (Air)
    That's the way I'm staying
    Listen what I'm saying, day in day out we ain't playing
    They should weigh their options while they got em or get took apart
    Man ain't got no business looking hard you little pussyclart
    All I wanna do is reel these bars off
    Philly B on the beat man I pull it up
    And you'd better be ready for the blast off
    Me and Jam on the ting we put it up
    So high I'll be laughing my ass off
    Looking down on the Earth like (is it?)
    With a broke leg trying to get it cast off
    Plus you don't wanna blink you'll (miss it)
    My demographic is ecstasy mixed with acid
    And a bit of psilocybin all crammed in one tablet
    Raid your drinks cabinet, steal your mum's jam jar
    Go out on a drug-fueled frenzy filled with anger
    Blame it on grandpa, you know what he's like
    Easy with a bag of weezy, sleazy on the peace pipe
    Freezing on the beats like, they call it cold fronts
    Stacking so much paper mate should get yourself a hole punch
    And a bag of golf clubs
    Long range when I get my pace on
    Now they're saying to get my skates on
    What I'm saying is I care not for some paper with an old lady's face on
    Straight up, let me deal with the ting though
    Wagwaan gringo chuckin' motherfuckers out the window
    Rappers can't deal with the lingo
    Pulling out bars like nobody's business, killing MC's on the daily
    Make a pig's ear with a dog's dinner when I come through
    Make your whole crew go crazy
    Make your old dear have a blue baby
    It's the LDZ fam, look it up
    And you don't wanna see my zoot turn shady
    So it's back to the book now, cook it up

    [Verse 3: Jam Baxter]
    Yeah, back to the book
    Next chapter, land of the crooks
    Trapped in the woods, I'm ascending
    Bredren, who's that gremlin stamping his foot, look
    Watch and burn, get out the way man we want 'em first
    All of the intricacies in my world all merge into one long constant verse
    Slapped by a demon, I'm so high I can actually see them
    It's angling season, hook line sinker
    I got them, now I gotta actually eat them
    So when I say that blind faith is a bitch
    Next man think I'm taking the piss
    So I'ma just sit back shaking and shit, when really
    All I wanna say to 'em is
    If a clown can bake a pie full of vibes in his house today
    And sell the grimmest ones for fifty nugs to a crowd of snakes
    Then we can fry some eggs and call 'em gods if we want to
    And serve 'em with a crown of thorns, swimming in some fondue

  2. Every time I listen to the original mix of this I can see the mental image of Jam Baxter & Dabbla in suits in a boardroom, presenting powerpoint presentations of this tune to a bunch of execs. Such a sick tune.

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