| Look at them
|
| There standing on the corner
|
| Look at them
|
| They’re never lonely
|
| Look at them
|
| They’re feeling like braveheart
|
| Look at them
|
| They’re gonna tear someone apart
|
| Look at them
|
| They listen to their gangsta rap
|
| Look at them
|
| They’re caught in a ghetto trap
|
| Look at them
|
| All that glitters is gold now
|
| Look at them
|
| They’re turning into foes now
|
| Moaning and boring
|
| Shouting out a warning
|
| Out the dark they come
|
| With their posse yes yalling
|
| London born…
|
| Look at them
|
| They two sugar lump it
|
| Look at them
|
| They blow their own trumpet
|
| Look at them
|
| They’re souring my taste
|
| Look at them
|
| They’re slowing my pace
|
| Look at them
|
| They’re always on the take now
|
| Look at them
|
| They’re always so fake now
|
| Look at them
|
| They’re afraid of failure
|
| Look at them
|
| Waiting for their saviour |