Whoops Dirty Dike (Ft. Jam Baxter & Rag'n'Bone Man)

[Intro: Dirty Dike]
Riding about on my fucking tricycle
Sixteen ice creams in my pocket
Ain't no thing you can do to stop me borrowing a quid off your dad

[Verse 1: Dirty Dike]
I don't give a flying fuck if you're a violent cunt
I been climbing up these pylons pissed and writing love
I been CS gassed in sheds in front of Simon's mum
Life is fun, I've never felt the need to cry or buy a gun
Most of the time I'm just here for the rinse
All the beer that I've drank
Still feels weird when I think
Will kill fear with a blink
Still chill here with a grin like
Open mouth full of duck skin
Rolling round in my love pit
With my fuck pig
Deep breath on my trumpet
Got Keith Wet on my drum kit
Dumb shit
It doesn't make sense
What does, bitch?
I sold drugs in clubs, got busted
And now I know a place never gonna trust him
But you love him
Same time, you say fuck him, he's disgusting
Last man ever put your trust in
There ain't a feminist that ain't discussed him
Like, whoopsie, daisy who
I don't really wanna get blazed with you
I been blazing away since the 90s
And I got a bit of passive in the 80s too
I got one fake job and the paper chute
I make tunes on the MP baby proof
I got a wonky eye and a lazy tooth
I went YOI but I made it through