| Um, smooth
|
| Like a motherfucking otter’s belly
|
| Watching telly in my socks until I pop an ecky
|
| Got the 'chete by the bottom of the box of reckies
|
| When I die you’ll probably talk a lot and when you stop forget me
|
| I rang the doctor like a motorcycle gang Madonna
|
| With gold hanging out my oversized attractive collar
|
| I’m a hybrid call me Matty Waller
|
| Only guys from Life4Land and Madingley can catch you proper
|
| Shouts to hints and any pigs who tried to catch me
|
| Weed bags, graff, beak in every bit of pasty
|
| Beef, slags, dads, freaks, geezers and the drag queens
|
| Please don’t forget the coke squeezers and the scag fiends
|
| With my eyes shut I see nothing
|
| Nothing like the multi-coloured spiderweb I’m stuck in
|
| Boldly cover up and bye the bye beside the bigger me
|
| Literally I sit and keep it rigid as a figurine
|
| Listen it’s a kindred little spirit from a different scene
|
| Coke-sniffing antisocial prick within the guillotine it isn’t me
|
| It isn’t me a single bit, and I don’t miss to seek
|
| 'Cause I don’t really give a shit
|
| It’s not the millions of cocks up in your mouth
|
| It’s just a difference in the cotch when you’re about
|
| It’s just a bridge a bit of confidence you doubt
|
| Bitch I wear the fucking trousers dead in Rodney Trotter’s house
|
| It’s the snout and the way that your eyes lie and scream piss
|
| Peen stiff disfigured foetus for the squeamish
|
| Six-figure Jesus eating fish shipped from Egypt
|
| I mean it, a few million views and you’ve seen it
|
| My mouth hurts tryna rap as I crowd surf
|
| Acting like an out of talent twat in a loud shirt
|
| And I’m a geezer that you trust to keep at arms length
|
| Half dead get your palm read on a park bench
|
| Alarms went (nee-naw nee-naw)
|
| In the yard shed, I know that Collin’s right but
|
| I believe what Noir said
|
| Guitar swinging off my brother’s back
|
| Fuck a dad we work together and we love him back
|
| Knobs like you who think you’re slippery and clever
|
| But one sly move I treat you differently for ever
|
| Knobs like you who think you’re slippery and clever
|
| But one sly move I treat you differently for ever
|
| Knobs like you who think you’re slippery and clever
|
| But one sly move I treat you differently for ever
|
| Knobs like you who think you’re slippery and clever
|
| But one sly move I treat you differently for ever
|
| I’m smooth, like a motherfucking well buttered boot up your bitches ass
|
| Mid-game, leaning on me pimp cane
|
| While I twist me 'tache
|
| Lift me glass, relax, and pick a pass
|
| Moving slow but I’m thinking fast
|
| I’m in a different class
|
| I’ll blasted out the pussy like Goku
|
| With a cold brew and landed in the middle of the dole queue
|
| Built a rat on the spot, and smoked a whole Q
|
| Rocking the same tracksuit since 02
|
| Devouring cold stew out of an old shoe
|
| And then I put it on soaked through
|
| I pimp limp and half step over your whole crew
|
| Intimidating players like Jonah Lomu
|
| It’s just something I made up but it’s so true
|
| In church donating fivers we sniffed coke through
|
| I’m a piece of shit with a gold hue
|
| If you want something not doing I’m your go to
|
| I suppose you already knew, two cans of Kezzy and a strawberry chew
|
| But why you here though really?
|
| Relax, kick back, let your beard grow curly
|
| Arm round a crate like we’re oldest chums
|
| Smoking lungs looking at pictures of old smoker’s lungs
|
| Knobs like you who think you’re slippery and clever
|
| But one sly move I treat you differently for ever
|
| Knobs like you who think you’re slippery and clever
|
| But one sly move I treat you differently for ever
|
| Knobs like you who think you’re slippery and clever
|
| But one sly move I treat you differently for ever
|
| Knobs like you who think you’re slippery and clever
|
| But one sly move I treat you differently for ever |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Woah, artist - Dirty Dike. Album song Acrylic Snail, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп