Tour Bus Massacre Lyrics By Skepta
I pour expensive drinks for my **** in the grave, all my **** in prison
Tryna make more money to buy more food for my **** in the kitchen
So if you ain't talking about paper, sorry, G, I don't wanna listen
Matter of fact, I don't wanna see you pussy holes in my peripheral vision
I would never stick my dick in the stereo but I'm screaming, fuck the system
I turn Tom Cruise on **** when they told me it was an impossible mission
We used to be close, now we're totally distant
Used to recognize when he was real but now my man looks totally different
Only want my brothers to hang around with me, so I put JME on my neck
The last guy who tried to take my chain got no respect
We can all start pumping iron, just know I'ma do loads more reps
Strong like Conan the Barbarian, **** can't walk in my creps
Thought a hundred grand would solve all my problems, but I gots load more stress
The only thing that's changed now is I get loads more sex
She said when I made it rain, I make the flower get wet
I said when you looking at Skepta, you looking at sexy in the flesh
I'm thinking last night was crazy
I'm living my dream, don't wake me
Pass me the coke and JD
The man, dem just shut down JD
Roll to the club with the hole in the bus, wavy
Konan's chatting to Amy, Skepta's neck, JME
Just got dough form the P.A.
Today, Max's b-day
Gonna put last night on replay
Let's raise a toast for the DJ
Alright, enough thinking
Let me get back to the track, listen
Since Otis, the world's been listening
Jackpot, like I burgled the kitchen
Let me slow it down, ****
I love the way that Catholic
I need a vicar
She made me bust an ill nut, I call her Camilla
Got my wood in her hand, I call it a splinter
Let me tell you, 'bout the last Pagan that clowned about
Was about two o'clock or 'round about
When I caught him at the roundabout
I let three go war 'round about
Now he's got more exits than a roundabout
I'm going in, but it's early
You can get thrown in the van for a persie
Look, 'round here, gotta play dirty
'Cause even FatBoys don't show mercy
You sure you want something in your jersey
Hands on the 8, I dare somebody verse me
With Kirsty, she's from Purley
I told her get her jugs out, I'm thirsty
Tryna live my dream, so I sleep less
Thinking, fuck the world 'cause I'm tryna cheat death
Lighty's wanna suck me, but I only want the Queen's head
Counting these grands, screaming fuck a G jet
Kons, now they saying I'm trouble
Got brothers in track, turning rocks into rubble
Get caught in arms but it's nothing like a cuddle
Lil' pussies talk S till I make 'em see double
