[Intro]
Oosh
Sounds dope
Yea, bro, sounds dope
Yeah
It’s dedicated to
Check
Yeah
[Verse 1: Tom Scott]
It’s dedicated to all the artists who struggling
Through the hardship and punishment from the heart for the love of it (Yeah)
It’s motivated by all they partners who stuck with them
And help them pick it up again when they were thinking, 'fuck it then'
It’s been inspired by all the marvellous mothers and
All the fatherless troublesome broken bastards that bum off them
It’s for the hustlers scabbing off of the government
Wandering in the street playing cricket with the rubbish bin
It’s for the lonely nerd rolling herb on his
Broken turntable that he mixes beats on that no one's heard
It’s for the bony bird spitting spoken word
Blowing dough on phony fur, rocking headphones that only work
In one side, for that unsigned drunk guy
Who never let the funk die, working like he’s done by
Hard, it’s for the Sheila with the bung eye
And too much pride to let her son see his mum cry
Real, it’s for the has-beens that had dreams
The fuck ups and crack fiends, the dropouts and drag queens
It’s for the last kid picked, the first picked on
The one they laugh at, the opposite from a sitcom
It’s for the fat kid, the misfit rat kid
The lipstick black chick that no one ever sat wit'
Dirt broke brat kid that never really had shit
Rat back scab eating noodles out the packet
It’s dedicated to the skater kids chucking rocks
Taggers cutting locks, stoners huffing NOS
Fuck the cops and the rugby jocks
Fuck my boss and the goodie-goodie prefects sucking cocks (Fuck you)
For the fellas that I sat up in detention with
And anyone that’s ever had their name on the attendance list (Yeah)
It’s for every kid that ever thought of ending it
And every piss poor bum living on a benefit
Oosh
Sounds dope
Yea, bro, sounds dope
Yeah
It’s dedicated to
Check
Yeah
[Verse 1: Tom Scott]
It’s dedicated to all the artists who struggling
Through the hardship and punishment from the heart for the love of it (Yeah)
It’s motivated by all they partners who stuck with them
And help them pick it up again when they were thinking, 'fuck it then'
It’s been inspired by all the marvellous mothers and
All the fatherless troublesome broken bastards that bum off them
It’s for the hustlers scabbing off of the government
Wandering in the street playing cricket with the rubbish bin
It’s for the lonely nerd rolling herb on his
Broken turntable that he mixes beats on that no one's heard
It’s for the bony bird spitting spoken word
Blowing dough on phony fur, rocking headphones that only work
In one side, for that unsigned drunk guy
Who never let the funk die, working like he’s done by
Hard, it’s for the Sheila with the bung eye
And too much pride to let her son see his mum cry
Real, it’s for the has-beens that had dreams
The fuck ups and crack fiends, the dropouts and drag queens
It’s for the last kid picked, the first picked on
The one they laugh at, the opposite from a sitcom
It’s for the fat kid, the misfit rat kid
The lipstick black chick that no one ever sat wit'
Dirt broke brat kid that never really had shit
Rat back scab eating noodles out the packet
It’s dedicated to the skater kids chucking rocks
Taggers cutting locks, stoners huffing NOS
Fuck the cops and the rugby jocks
Fuck my boss and the goodie-goodie prefects sucking cocks (Fuck you)
For the fellas that I sat up in detention with
And anyone that’s ever had their name on the attendance list (Yeah)
It’s for every kid that ever thought of ending it
And every piss poor bum living on a benefit
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