Dead Players - Premium Murkage [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Dabbla]
When it comes to the mic I'm a beast
When they said Hip-Hop's dead I creased
Do It for the love
And I do it for the sheets
You can go and F(beep) yourself with the beeps
In it for the peace and im in it for the hype
In it cos really you only get one life
Should of sold out but im not that type
You should know me by now what im like
Can I get a whoop whoop
Welcome to the warm up, form up
Love the way my team just swarm up
Beats get torn up
Anything that's sweet like corn up
All out, all in, all up, fall in
Drawn up plans get hatched and drawn up
Gal get whipped like walnut
Twist like doorknob
Manaman are sick
You're not, my lots
Never gonna fall of
Shut up!

(That's how I be like) (Repeat)

[Jam Baxter]
Look, I ain't stopped creasing for days
Stepping out drunk in the evening rain
Life in a crisp dream
Skies looking pristine
Set lee sipping Jim Beam on a train
And we flick off the parasites
Paralysed goon flying through with a bag of ice
Next sket bowls up, says she's a fan of mine
Next thing mans got the headboard banging like !!!
Giving her the premium murkage
And I ain't sure if she even deserves it
Wake up walk out, storming the foreground
All out war when we keep to the surface
And I got it all worked out
Hanging on the planet till it all burns down
Teaming a re run, mans on a deep one
Whole scene looking like an hors d'oeuvre now

(That's how I be like) (Repeat)

[Dabbla]
And then I, hit em with a bar so milli
Whole damn system in your car go silly
Old Bill looking in the whip like hmmmm
Whole click hotter than a charcoal grilly
My whole city
Know what the dealy is
You ain't got the foggiest
Flow like Phileas
I'm so hideous
I'm so tidy
I'm so dutty, stinking!
Yeah! Do it with your pistols
Fingers on the button now my moneys on the pixels
On another level now were coming from the crystals
Images I wiggle with the joystick
When I'm on the platform everybody Wyle out
Get it in your system
Then I put the style out
Probably made the PO-PO wanna pull the file out
You can smell that shit from a mile out, Listen!

(That's how I be like) (Repeat)

[Jam Baxter]
Its like Shit!
I never smelt this much gas
But pricks love jamming and the kids love fraff
Two cream set killer
Dry stale bread winner
Triple light head spinner
Sick young brat
Moving the shugs like whales in a fish bowl
Fling gold shards at the skyline spit so
Drink whole shots of elixir and still roll
Squidging her wrist and spit that grim mould
March of the unwashed son got
Bunk off life in your dumb job
Come cotch
Deliver to the station
Duck from the drug dogs
Fly these skies
Green eyes all bloodshot
Unlock doors when this sharp tongue twists
That's why the whole crews like
"Rah fuck this" But...

(That's how I be like) (Repeat)