I'm about to phone your mum a cab
Sober up your slag, don't open up your flange
Here, smoke a bunch of skag
Only joking, I'm your dad
Pulling up on my bicycle
Chased by the pigs like Nigel
Brainwashed the kids to buy vinyl
Pissing in urinals, the cycle of the system of survival
Fighting off your sister
Getting primal
Acting all vaginal
Trynna whack the titties in my eyeballs
Seafood hangin' round my neck, what the heck
Big fish for love and plus a crab for respect
Proud to present an unannounced special guest
None less than the stinging nettle sounds of my breath
(Yes yes!)
Stepping like a triple x sex pest, fresh
Polishing the edges of my crepes
Bollocks in a festival of stress
Living off the promises and debts
Problematic novices of
Money, Trust, Drugs, Love, Debt, Sex
And I ain't got a clue why I live here
Money, Trust, Drugs, Love, Debt
And I ain't got a clue why I live here
Money, Trust, Drugs, Love, Debt
And I ain't got a clue why I live here
Money, Trust, Drugs, Love, Debt, Sex
And I ain't got a clue
Rappers stepping to me, they want to get some
But most of them should go and eat a hand full of fuckin' shit
Suck a dick and tick accomplished on your bucket list
And fist Cliff Richard with a rubber glove and oven mitt
I miss this, Christmas, oh fuck it hasn't come has it?
Multiplied the summer by a tonne and fly a truck at it
Poltergeist are coming by, dungeon for the fuck of it [?]
I'll fill it up with stolen bikes, drugs, plus some other bits
I see the fake in your physical shape
Give me a break, you're lyrically living in shame
This shit is a game, I'm winning cause I live in it mate
You ain't committed, more addicted to your minimum wage
A slippery snake, I slither in a figure of eight
And take your dame out for dinner, make her sit in the rain [?]
Think I'm ashamed? Mate I take a piss on the stage
Simple and plain, I don't know why I live in this place
Money, Trust, Drugs, Love, Debt, Sex
And I ain't got a clue why I live here
Money, Trust, Drugs, Love, Debt
And I ain't got a clue why I live here
Money, Trust, Drugs, Love, Debt
And I ain't got a clue why I live here
Money, Trust, Drugs, Love, Debt, Sex
And I ain't got a clue
compositores: Dirty Dike
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