The beats are flying past my face Reminds of times I used to race Tripping over on my lace But no longer is that the case Nah, I don't trip over anymore I shoot and I score My minds like a store Take what I want and order more Listen, when I need inspiration I don't turn to drugs That's desperation A game for mugs, fuel for thugs I don't mean to be offensive But I'm a little apprehensive Cause my clothes are quite expensive And I go to comprehensive I bet I sound like a right little rich kid The kind that sucks dicks And gets kicks from drinks mixing Truth is, that ain't me Money don't grow on trees So I don't go on shopping sprees I save up for my P's I ain't a good little boy I just think that shits stupid And while you're testing fate I'm thanking Cupid I got the girl of my dreams So while you're chasing slags We're on the sofa Watching Gok's new handbags Best of all, she don't care what I wear So I throw on some joggers Scruff up my hair And I'm there So here I am, right here beside her This bats got your name on it You ever try to one line her That's the decider No one will ever find ya This is where it gets dirty You're getting worn out It's about round thirty Can't merk me Can't hurt me I'll tell ya sternly Get out of my town and go back to Burnley Best hope ya heard me I won't say it again Just pull out the skeng Stick it in ya back and watch you bend The end. Feedback please?