| They call me Douglby
|
| I tackle issues like ruggleby
|
| A blend of gentlemanliness and thuggery
|
| I’ll glass you with some very expensive bubbly
|
| Bloody luxury
|
| Bone cutlery protrudes from your wounds, buggery
|
| Ooh, a scrummage, lovely jubbly
|
| A useful excuse to induce you to cuddle me
|
| The two teams squeeze together quite snugly
|
| Rummaging and fumbling with undiscovered subtlety
|
| Beneath the scrummaging, we’re being all couply
|
| I’m roughly as politically correct as
|
| Little Huckleberry Finn using epithets
|
| No longer customary
|
| I’ll get with your ex then apply for custody
|
| Of your little buggers then we’ll bugger off to Tuscany
|
| I’m in your cuff links and tux living comfortably
|
| Bloody luxury, being you, sucks to be
|
| Whether you rap
|
| Whether you rock or whether you roll
|
| I insist that you relinquish all control
|
| We’re playing rugby and the ball’s your soul
|
| So pass it back to Dougbly and we’ll all go home
|
| Rap’s raconteur back on tour
|
| I’ll blap a crap reviewer, sacre bleu, huh
|
| That’s one fewer wrongdoer
|
| I’m long due an apology
|
| And I want you to give one to me
|
| If you ever listened to a rapper and it wasn’t me
|
| I’ll pull off my trackie bottoms
|
| And give you a tracheotomy
|
| I’ll leave you looking like a child eating broccoli
|
| Ticking you off saying, «Chew your food properly»
|
| I operate a strict sick lyrics only policy
|
| So originality’s a pretty big priority
|
| I lyrically precede the Iliad and Odyssey
|
| They found my lyric pad within a Celtic monastery
|
| Follow Gilgamesh’s geneology through ptolemy
|
| Anyone of quality, they probably just copied me
|
| So, are my sonnets prophecy or an anomaly?
|
| A little bit of column A, a bit of column B
|
| Whether you rap
|
| Whether you rock or whether you roll
|
| I insist that you relinquish all control
|
| We’re playing rugby and the ball’s your soul
|
| So pass it back to Dougbly and we’ll all go home |