Lessons.

Can't believe you did that, don't do it again,
now here's 40 cents, you don't have any friends.

Disregard Women. Obtain Currency.

My teenager's fucking money, getting bitches,
Your teenager's getting fucked, needs stitches.

VTB4

Threatening behaviour just pinpoints your weak points,
Just be thankful I got the skills to re-anoint,
and you lot aint good enough in my eyes, so what if you racked it,
You got heart but wheres your soul?
That's right; you sold it for a packet.

Brace yourself.

Pussy foot, watch where you tread,
Round here kids with your attitude end up dead,
A hot shot for a hot shot, place your bets,
We be playing a game, not meant for minors,
and we decimate your henchmen, with kindness,
never weakness, so don't think the safe bet never loses,
Like dodgy fireworks, boy, our crew got short fuses.

Benefit rules your souls.

That's a sugar skull.

Egging you on, walking your terraces,
those bastards in claret and blue,
half past a laugh at your stupid arse,
global manifestation of memories past.

You bunch of fools, spoon fed like your bread winner was brain dead,
I am a liar, I will go and thieve,
but the convictions I hold I treasure, not grieve.

Smashing on through your perverse concoction of wannabes and hasbeen's.
I'm leaving you with what's left in your head.
NOTHING.

Earth is Hollow.

I said wait a minute, you cunts are just in my way,
Watching your forces retreat, turn and look the other way as they obey,
Satan's stomping through your street like the second coming of the creep,
Cutbacks so clean, cutbacks so neat.

Same Matress, Different Sheets

Second coming of Christ, don't said I didn't warn you,
Cos incest's a bitch when it's common knowledge your mum's a whore, dude.

Topical and Racist

Wit an airplane spoon flyin' everywhere my baby coo's,
You bitches that glance over everything thought I said coon.

Relationships

My baby's crazy, takes his pick from the lady litter,
Your baby's lady takes dick from the baby sitter.

MORE FEEN.

Take a look at your baby, a showpony in American Apparel,
My baby sees your baby from a mile away, and sees targets in a barrel.

Indians

Fixie rolls, knapsacks, girls jeans and the rest,
Your baby still cries when he leaves his momma's breast.

Short and Sweet.

MY BABY WASN'T BORN YESTERDAY, GROWN TO BE A FIGHTER,
YOUR BABY WAS BORN YESTERDAY, STILL PISSING ITS FUCKING DIAPER.

Ghostwriter.

My baby don't need beef, and he don't cook pork,
Your baby straight Internet, on that Fakebook stalk.
My baby don't need caps lock to have the game locked up, aks' ya mans,
Your baby swollen glands, locked up like Weezy, sucking cock for Coke cans.

Bacon Deluxe.

My baby chortles at how awful it is that your baby stays, lawful,
My baby has had a gut full of how your baby thinks it's Sitting Bull,
That sign says no standing, so straighten up,
You posers late with the lean, my baby snatching those styrofoam cups,
Cliches and she says that your baby had the motive,
My baby stays crazy and spurred on, locomotivated train lines of linear thought, always hated.
Real recognise real and that's how I'm gonna play it,
Time for your baby to change it's diaper,
Like it's style, it stinks like shit.

I played Chess with RZA.

My baby stunting like Tony Starks, your baby got stomped by Rosa Parks,
While my baby stays razor sharp, on the retalitation tip,
Your baby stays confused, head spinning, split upper lip.
My baby, he got confidence.
Your baby, he got conned, no defence.
My baby's Knight rode the Bishop home for central board control,
Your baby training to be a pawn position C4, about to get rolled.

Progress.

Canary yellow Tonka, yeah i got them birds in it,
you think i mean them girls in it? Nah i mean them birds in it.

Batman.

My baby's out in Norway, Jack Nicholson and poker,
your baby's out on broadway, Jack Nicholson as Joker.

Manners.

My baby's at the round table, speaking with the council,
your baby's at a round table, speaking with his mouth full.

Locals Only

Your baby in a crack den with crack friends,
My baby stack dem' high, uncountable, unaccountable ends,
Your baby can't tour or hold an erection even when he masturbates,
My baby's got chapters in all of the Australian states.
Your baby got a brainstate the size of a pea yo,
My baby stomps fakes and toys with chains yo.

Oh oh there he go again,
He spat it once like the dummy,
That's you, not your fucking baby.

My baby laid back, with the backing of the boys,
Your baby washes my baby's Maybach, hangs with toys.

Yo' baby's gone missing,
My baby just chilling.

Zees.

My baby swaggerz the streetz, lookin' fly, lookin dardz',
Your baby crawls the streetz, searchin for dem shardz.

I AM AN EX BUTANE HUFFER

My baby like Megatron, blowing up a megaton,
Your baby like an undead version, of your dead son.
My baby has gotten over racial,
your baby catches it, facial.
My baby got three labs and a container with grow lights,
your baby got a drinking problem and loses bar fights.
My baby cleans up,
your baby just cleans.

Ammunition.

My baby lives the fast life, nice whips and blue steel,
your baby lives the past life, rice crisps and Luke Steele,

Kit Kat Strikes Back.

My baby brings war to the stars, like George Lucus,
Your baby drab dribbling, bubbles spongy mucus.

Hope.

My baby can rap steady, your baby can't even walk steady.
My baby packs heat, your baby packs meat.
My baby got the kood, your baby ain't even on solid food.
Stepping up the game, my baby claims fame while your baby sits dumbfounded,
'cos when the shine from my babies nine glistens,
your baby's crib got Do Not Cross tape around it.

Faith.

My baby knows how to clean an M-16, your baby only knows it's daddy is a hasbeen.
My baby stomps through your alleys with a vengence,
Your baby just dies hard, with a vengence.
My baby wrote the bible, your baby's his disciple.
Your baby full of holes, my baby glistens gold.
My baby got an 8 track, your baby mounting brokeback.

Literature

Your baby catches feelings over Bridge to Terabithia,
Seriously, what the fuck rhymes with Bridge to Terabithia?

'Cos we don't half step.

My baby ain't a baby, your baby is my baby.
My baby plays with hoes, yo' baby plays with Lego.
My baby rich and famous, your baby truely heinous.

Kingpin.

So much white powder stuffed inside the diapers,
so much cocaine it justifies the snipers.

Success

I'm in an all black pram sittin' on 26's,
cushion interiors is custom, 26 bitches.

Fight Club.

My baby has blood on his hands,
your baby has mud in his pants.

Travel.

Your baby's never gonna dance again,
my baby's on his way to France again,

Luxury.

Harness in the drivers seat, my baby rides Bentley,
flying spur saloon suite, my baby glides gently.

Sport.

My baby trains for the Olympics, motherfucking Discus,
Your baby likes the simple things, motherfucking Christmas.

Western Suburbs

My baby's makin' dollars and pumpin' fists with the best of them,
Your baby's poppin' collars and gettin' fisted by the rest of them.

My baby gone' ride/ Jimmy Hats

My baby starts fires, your baby slops feces.
Your baby got dyslexia and the syndrome,
My baby drinks Fruity Lexia down Burswood Dome,
unless he's driving his Maybach, back home.

My baby past that, your baby passed out.

Babies popping wheelies as you wait at the bus stop,
you got the raw prawn out of the whole lot.

My baby runs a lodge, your baby just runs.

My baby puts a shiver in the liver,
I hope your baby is 12 months premature, when the doctor deliver.

My baby got his own shoe, your baby ain't got a clue.
The boy I got folds stacks with rubber bands that don't fit in his bassinet,
your boy went to band camp, with a clarinet.

My baby boosts cars from the police impound,
Your baby got mistaken for a dog and got taken to the pound.

Your baby was the product of a Shotgun Wedding,
My baby makes product with a Shotgun Funeral.

My baby knows five languages fluently, your baby still sniffs glue, see.


My baby can do this for hours, your baby got caught slipping in the prison showers.


My baby scams Centrelink, your baby plain stink.
My baby got handstyle, your baby just think it's 8 Mile.
My babies got teething toys, your baby is a biting toy.
My babies ready to die, your babies ready to cry.

Girls.

Next top model, she'll be over in a half an hour,
Next pop bottles, she gets spoilt, call it a baby shower.

Home life.

My baby treats his wife with a mean five seater,
your baby beats his wife in a green wife beater.

Reality.

Gold frame on the bassinet, the pacifier's exquisite,
foreign girls in my baby seat, i classify it explicit.

Family Matters.

My baby's camping at Grandma's house, ready to shoot,
Your baby's cramping on Grandma's blouse, ready to poop.

Gen-Y.

My baby's blackberry incredible, so many bitches on it,
Your baby's cutlery is edible, so many pictures on it.

26 inches.

My baby's rims is premiere, three sixty degrees,
Your baby's shit is everywhere, three sixty degrees.

Genesis 3:16

We know what you're thinking, so stop thinking it. This blog is not for your enjoyment, nor is it meant to be cute or a 'delightful look into the baby's previously unexplored psyche'. This is serious fucking gangster rap about babies who have seen more in their first month then you have in your whole life. People dance around babies singing nursery rhymes because they think it's what babies want. Babies want money, bitches and chew biscuits before they go to bed. Babies stare at you, not because their visual receptacles are underdeveloped, they stare at you because they want to see you after school, they stare at you because they know you won't do anything about it, they stare at you because you aren't built for conflict like they are. Babies give good advice by not saying anything, they're like dogs. Babies aren't like dogs at all. You think you've got it hard? Try being born. Try learning to walk without a disability. Walk a mile in some soft little shoes with the tiny laces. Luxury is having your shit cleaned from the inside of your pants where you stand. Struggle is retaining the code of the streets while you're stuck in the crib surrounded by plush snakes and not knowing where your next meal is coming from. Eat like a king, sleep like a baby. Slave to a cradle but a baby owns it's masters.

My baby's never scared,
your baby's Fred Astair.