| You can’t rap, my friend, you’re white and you’re from Fernley
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| Please put down the mic, there’s no way you can fool them
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| Don’t be stupid, you won’t get that far
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| Turn your back on that gay shit and get in the crazy car
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| Of all the possibilities I ever coulda chosen
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| Supposing career wise I’d picked Hip Hop
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| Imagine all the tip top rapper’s bottom lips drop
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| Sitting there shocked that some other bloody shit hot
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| Dude with a mullet, bussin shorts, wearing flip flops
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| Is spitting to a gathering looking like a criss cross
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| Of fans loving Prodigy, Kylie and Slipknot
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| Nearly coulda happened bro, look at me, I shit not
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| White Tay Tay rhymes for the hell of it
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| If only he was ghetto mans, maybe we would sell a bit
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| I tried hard to dig up the credentials
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| Even thought about putting gold in my dentals
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| An Anglo Saxon with a broken accent
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| But rappers from Fulham get a strange reaction
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| I said bye to Rap, saw the issue at hand
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| Some guitar lessons later, formed my own band
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| Attention seeking, how far should a man go?
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| Cut his ear off like Vincent Van Gogh
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| Dash cash to the crowd so the venue scrambles
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| Turn my good life into a baby shambles
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| Fuck myself up real properly like Pete Doherty
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| Cover of heat, I’m hot property
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| Everybody’s clocking me, I own the crowd
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| Then I gotta link me up with a girls aloud
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| Next, exchange vows now my pop’s is proud
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| There’s a nine on my cloud, I’m as pleased as I ever been, bro
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| Mans flash like Jose Mourinho
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| Women crave me like bottles of pinot
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| Now I’ve got big I can fight photographers
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| Bang the obvious, please biographers
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| Spend currency 'til there ain’t none left
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| And when I need more I’ll fake my own death
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| You can’t rap, my friend
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| Right now it’s just hit and miss, soon I’ll taste a bit of bliss
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| Banging chicks at worst with looks like Jayne Middlemiss
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| Never doing hideous, it’s too bad for business
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| I spin when they grin with skin like Darth Sidious
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| Never out-riddle this, all chattin' gibberish
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| Verbal diarrhea so you’re never getting rid of this
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| I hear your retorts, there’s all sorts like liquorice
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| I can sense your bitterness, you wishing you written this
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| You can’t rap, my friend, you’re white and you’re from Fernley
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| Please put down the mic, there’s no way you can fool them
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| Don’t be stupid, you won’t get that far
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| Turn your back on that gay shit and bang that real tuff stuff in the car!!! |