Fillet Mignon Lyrics

• Is that an MC or a BLT?
• I swear down, I can't tell these days, [I can't tell these days...]
• Cause I've been spitting fridge-fresh with the full fat bars,
• Ever since I could spell my name, [my name...]
• Is that an MC or a filet mignon?
• I swear down, I can't tell these days, [I can't tell, man...]
• Sipping bark to my CP, keeping it gutter,
• And the man, them that felt my pain. [my pain... my pain...]

• Yeah, yeah, my pain, migraines are more,
• The sweat in that steg on the dry days of yore,
• The flypapers full of the lies pave the floor,
• And the fast King's kitchen, why waste the score?
• I'm in, one of them moves fresh new tremors,
• In a torch-lit lab full of test tube cherubs,
• Is that a plump duck or an egg stew, fella says 'Who?',
• She did it just to get you jealous, yeah, [Yeah...]
• Yeah, yeah, they say I'm not relevant,
• Is that a bag of gas or a tray of hot venison?
• Scrape that skeleton, swing it from the rafters,
• Gargling spittle as I'm picking at the carcass,
• Hard barbers, smothered in the mince,
• Waking everyday spitting blood up in my sink,
• Still struggling to blink with my puke glazed eyes,
• So, is that an MC or a huge steak pie, say why.

• Is that an MC or a BLT?
• I swear down, I can't tell these days, [I can't tell these days...]
• Cause I've been spitting fridge-fresh with the full fat bars,
• Ever since I could spell my name, [my name...]
• Is that an MC or a filet mignon?
• I swear down, I can't tell these days, [I can't tell, man...]
• Sipping bark to my CP, keeping it gutter,
• And the man, them that felt my pain. [my pain... my pain...]

• Is that an MC or a ham and egg quiche, on a platter,
• Scraped fresh from a bag of sex cheese,
• Cause I can't seem to tell what these rapper heads mean,
• When they're screaming in panic like they're having wet dreams,
• So, what happened to the scene, is it happening to me?
• I feel like a tea bag flapping in the breeze,
• Should I kneel down or lean back,
• Or smack you in the teeth?
• Nah, before it comes to that I think I'll pack it in and leave,
• Cause I've had enough of beasts when its phantom are salmon legs,
• Big man, smashing up their pram and they act depressed,
• Is that a talent or a faggot in a massive dress,
• Nah, that's a rapper slash scag head with a jagged edge.
• [So, is that an MC] or a fetus with claws,
• Or a penis that talks, that people ignore,
• When you speak and we yawn cause we seem to be bored,
• When you wet lettuce MCs are deep in your thoughts. [Fuck off.]

• Is that an MC or a BLT?
• I swear down, I can't tell these days, [I can't tell these days...]
• Cause I've been spitting fridge-fresh with the full fat bars,
• Ever since I could spell my name, [my name...]
• Is that an MC or a filet mignon?
• I swear down, I can't tell these days, [I can't tell, man...]
• Sipping bark to my CP, keeping it gutter,
• And the man, them that felt my pain. [my pain... my pain...]

Lyrics taken from UndergroundHH, check out our full database of Jam Baxter Lyrics.