Dirty Dike - Am I [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1: Dirty Dike]

Am I wack like your first show
Or am I bad like a black magic curse
No I'm fat like a burst nose
Clap from the back to the third row
Back slappin' birds am I just a sack of words and some cracked bones
Am I lost in this bucket full of knuckleheads
Fucking messed scuffles when you're drunk and theres nothing said
Am I missin' out on love in my public bed
Nothing yet trust but I'm stuck puffin' skunk instead
Am I tough as lead, cuss what my mother said
Trapped 'til I spread rubbish dust now we're huggin' less
Am I causing your husband some sudden stress
Or am I just another bumpkin thats under dressed
None the less
They say I'm tight like a shrunken vest, why?
'Cos I'm fucking fresh, rhyming like drunken sex
Am I trapped in the spiral of drugs and death
The vinyl that's scratched or the cries when your mother's dead
I'm in your mind when it bubbles red
So I'm like five tons of trouble when there's nothing left
A sick muddle, am I a kiss or a big cuddle
Am I a big fat shit or a sick puddle
Am I the big muscle twitch when your bitch struggles
This is it juggle this script 'til I spit rubble
Quick swiftness, shit am I a bit pissed
Sick as the switchblade gripped by the thick stubble
Am I normal or am I sane
Shall I snorkel my way through the thoughts of my shallow brain
And not pause 'til I'm back again
Am I gorpin' in pain at my war face or am i vain
Am I the skin of the drum that you're tappin' on
Clap along let your head snap to a happy song
Am I a back stage pass or a
Smile as wide as your fat mates arse
My rap breaks glass and takes half your mates bars
Straight past ancient days and leaves great scars
Leaves great fucking scars, yeah
Am I the tidbits, the what is this the hot business
Who's got spirit and only stops to rock lyrics
A novelist with a lot of shit in his oesophagus
The doctor said stop but I'm lost so I've got to spit
What is this? And thats an obvious blag
Am I captain piss man's colostomy bag
Or a spot in your mag or a slag getting robbed
Oh God this is mad I'm just dodging the plan
To escape the fates and be free when I suffocate
Nothings changed drunk, puffin' eighths in a fucking state
In a fucking state
Fuck off

[Verse 2: Edward Scissortongue]

Am I the missing link
Hobbit feet, tree swinging monkey grin
Tectonic hint of a stoned faced chisel chin
Am I the will to win
Like a million men who missioned in the depths of winter
Just to stop nazi militia men pillaging their villages
Man am I the village idiot who dribbles mic deliverance spinning the rhythmical synonyms
[?] limbs a nigger for instance
Imagination figments illuminate the darnedest in the distance
Am I paddling like pimps in down dead man's curve
Or am I drinking pints of piss just like a bed pan perv
Until my head can swerve, is this the head case hurts
Smuggling verbs over across vidicodes you choose to observe
Am I that class A dude spitting class A tunes at dark venues
Find me in blacked out backrooms
With the man on the moon strapping head shoots
While simultaneously cooking up some scag in a spoon
Am I that cynic with many lyrics
The devil with existential
Metaphysics question in the age of scripts to paint the minds of millions
Or am I another one of many earth bound spirits
Tries to fight the theories only to find the [?] image
Am I just a set of useless shapes and shady remarks
A person can prove the pennies [?] shadiest parch
Wrist slit as I lay in the bath
I see a red sea embark
Even Moses couldn't part
With his magical staff, satanical scars, diagonal charms
Sit on the man until I can reach with my mechanical maniacal
Spitting cannibal bars
Filled with sicker imagery than a VHS of Animal Farm
Am I that man who walks in circles never learning a thing
Almost regressing every second through a blaze before I felt I figure my sins
A single organism twitching
Before the axis of the Earth had ever started to spin
Am I that vibrating hammer on the strings with over rapid ivory hits
Echoing inside grand piano lids
Or am I the software packages that cut and paste the symphonies for kings into a bangin' loop of geese
Am I the sun dance kid, am I the matrix glitch
Am I the dusty vinyl scratch and skips these amazing scripts see its
Weird psychosis of a garbage bail kid
I never stabbed him in the ribs it was the demons in my mind that did
Am I the last laughing lager 'lowed down in car scales in large amounts before last orders fast passing out
Fastest bastard about to blast an ounce
Who's barred from half the bars in town
Am I Ed Scissortongue [?]
What his alter ego's got me going psycho over songs
Am I that wack jam host, likes to backhand foes
The best advice you avoid him like a pac-man ghost