Jam Baxter – Down (Mansion 38 Deluxe Edition Album)


Yo, I don’t have a reason to care
I wrote this verse 35,000 feet in the air
With my feet in the air
Reclining like a G in my chair
I’m the shit and I’m completely aware
Tell the chef I like my steak well done, medium-rare
Optimistic when they meet me but they leave in despair
Yeah, yeah
I’m too greedy to share
Bust a nut in her mouth
That’s a seedy affair
40 degrees, 51 layers on
But I’m too cold to be switching on the air-con
I’m a rare one, looking homeless mumbling
Got the locals wondering where the fuck they’re from (happy land)
I’m moving bookie in the duty-free
I just killed the whole game off
Stupid me
Mr. T put the Bruce in Lee
Got these kids fanning out but they’ll never be as cool as me

[Jam Baxter]

Sit back and watch the whole clan flourish
Rolled out the womb rocking gelled back mullets (FRESH)
Yeah my whole fam sluggish (SWEG)
Sheets of acid in our hand luggage
Smell the salted butter in the air
Moon walking through customs screaming nothing to declare
Yeah, you can stop waiting on a sign now
Lady lucks a little busy painting on her eyebrows
Caked in foundation getting wasted on a night out
I just sat at yard squirming like a live trout
The rejected cast of human traffic
Lately I been selling DMT to fund my bugle habit
That’s fucked, (nah) absurdity
I run a side hustle in experimental surgery
Mile long waiting list for brain amputations
Face lacerations and straight strangulations
My mans a maiden, I’m rolling to my gates
You roll out the session tears rolling down your face
Waste, you can see my soul from out of space
And even though I’m older now I’m still straight dumb
(dumb, dumb, dumb)

[Lee Scott]

Yo, Doctor Scott coming through like me Johnny popped
But do I give a shit? Probably not
I’m not crying I just Eyeball Paul’d a vodka shot
And hobbled off like Oswald Cobblepot
I don’t wanna try I just want the guap (money)
And the green jacket
Fuck the tee off like a glottal stop
On the chopping block, so cool
Sipping ice tea, holler Spike Lee for the dolly shot
You aren’t nice ask George R. Price
Tryna get my face a pop up on porn star sites
Registration closing, sign up quick
I’m 12 inches tall with a 5 foot dick
Due to complications, I’ll be zoning out in future conversations
The only thing I lose is concentration
I fuck me life up and sue the entire human population
For a multipack of snickers and a can of Guinness;
I was too smashed to finish
Flipping like a Paralympic gymnast, so effortless
Your child’s sports day gold medalist
I carry an egg with a spoon on
At your wake crunching a crouton with no suit on
I just wanna get out of me face
And have kids with luxury car names on council estates
I’m not down for debate you’re not me real son, son
We can’t have fun but (WE CAN GET DUMB)

Every night my IQ’s droppin’
Whole crew’s out on the balcony plottin’
Halfsteppin’ with your wife shoe shoppin’
Swiggin’ liquor in my coffin (x2)

Leave a Comment