Don
Don, yeah
Don, yeah
Don, yeah
Yeah, don
Got some flyers made out
Little calling cards with don in the middle, really small
No fucker could read it and they sold fuck all
Got Rockerdero's hired out, Norman J tipped up
Nobody else tipped up, had to pay him, obviously
What the fuck was that all about?
They didn't give a shit, nobody did
Nobody fucking cared about whatever
Had cats knocking back vodka Red Bull and touch the leather
Why? What?
Sitting about, doing fuck-all until you ain't got a pot
It's not vanity or just senselessness breath
It's the want of the disconnection with the consequences of havin' no fuckin' money left
The frame's got a picture of hell that crept into your blood as you dropped on the table
Existing in tight streets, and your dad's down with fucking other women
'Cause that's alright with thin meat, that's, that's alright with dur
(Same me)
Don, flyer had don in the middle
No fucker bought ticket
Still got chiseled, still got acid
Still got rank spice crap gag-antic
Don, flyer had don in the middle
No fucker bought a ticket
Still got chiseled, still got acid
Still got rank spice crap gag-antic
Don
Don
Yeah, don
Yeah, don
Yeah
Wanker still thinks he's a little boy with a conker
Wanker, sliding in 'n' out of houses in the cold light of day
Who the fuck d'you think you are? Sid James?
Comedy gold until you get old and fat
Then it's mould, mould, mould
Take him down the jumble sale, see if you can buy him a toy
Listening to you both arguing predating Kilroy
The wet hit, the white mantle-piece until we got an extension
But you forget to mention the extension on the end of your erection
That went everywhere with open-top shirts on and fucking 50s hair
Who is moaning? Let the flap of flared trousers hit my shins
Past tester pots of spray-painted houses in the tin bin
Don, flyer had don in the middle
No fucker bought ticket
Still got chiseled, still got acid
Still got rank spice crap gag-antic
Don, flyer had don in the middle
No fucker bought a ticket
Still got chiseled, still got acid
Still got rank spice crap gag-antic
Don
Don
Acres are the flavors of the clever, see
I never should've planned to be oat else, but these
Understand the system and you make it so
The clutches of the middle for the falling dough
Don
Don
Acres are the flavors of the clever, see
I never should've planned to be oat else, but these
Understand the system and you make it so
The clutches of the middle for the falling dough
Don
Don
Don
Don
Thin meat
Don, yeah
Don, yeah
Yeah, don
Got some flyers made out
Little calling cards with don in the middle, really small
No fucker could read it and they sold fuck all
Got Rockerdero's hired out, Norman J tipped up
Nobody else tipped up, had to pay him, obviously
What the fuck was that all about?
They didn't give a shit, nobody did
Nobody fucking cared about whatever
Had cats knocking back vodka Red Bull and touch the leather
Why? What?
Sitting about, doing fuck-all until you ain't got a pot
It's not vanity or just senselessness breath
It's the want of the disconnection with the consequences of havin' no fuckin' money left
The frame's got a picture of hell that crept into your blood as you dropped on the table
Existing in tight streets, and your dad's down with fucking other women
'Cause that's alright with thin meat, that's, that's alright with dur
(Same me)
Don, flyer had don in the middle
No fucker bought ticket
Still got chiseled, still got acid
Still got rank spice crap gag-antic
Don, flyer had don in the middle
No fucker bought a ticket
Still got chiseled, still got acid
Still got rank spice crap gag-antic
Don
Don
Yeah, don
Yeah, don
Yeah
Wanker still thinks he's a little boy with a conker
Wanker, sliding in 'n' out of houses in the cold light of day
Who the fuck d'you think you are? Sid James?
Comedy gold until you get old and fat
Then it's mould, mould, mould
Take him down the jumble sale, see if you can buy him a toy
Listening to you both arguing predating Kilroy
The wet hit, the white mantle-piece until we got an extension
But you forget to mention the extension on the end of your erection
That went everywhere with open-top shirts on and fucking 50s hair
Who is moaning? Let the flap of flared trousers hit my shins
Past tester pots of spray-painted houses in the tin bin
Don, flyer had don in the middle
No fucker bought ticket
Still got chiseled, still got acid
Still got rank spice crap gag-antic
Don, flyer had don in the middle
No fucker bought a ticket
Still got chiseled, still got acid
Still got rank spice crap gag-antic
Don
Don
Acres are the flavors of the clever, see
I never should've planned to be oat else, but these
Understand the system and you make it so
The clutches of the middle for the falling dough
Don
Don
Acres are the flavors of the clever, see
I never should've planned to be oat else, but these
Understand the system and you make it so
The clutches of the middle for the falling dough
Don
Don
Don
Don
Thin meat
Credits
Writer(s): Andrew Robert Fearn, Jason Williamson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
Other Album Tracks
Altri album
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