| Let me describe it
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| Between where the Pennines sit
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| And the Sun fights through cloud to keep the skies lit
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| There’s a town I call home
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| Where shadows from the Sun
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| Divide countryside views from industrialised
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| Where bad news travels fast
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| In a small world of glorified car girls and alley cats
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| Bordering Halifax and Leeds City
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| Travel on the train for £3.50p
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| Now keep me
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| Past the leafless trees and grey buildings
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| We dream to escape and make millions
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| Instead we stay and raise children
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| We’re stuck here now
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| In this grime filled drugged up town
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| And the average man’s afraid to mention
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| All the class prejudices
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| And the underlying racial tension
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| Now it feels like a musical ghost town
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| Especially since Fourth Wave and Badlands closed down
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| Beats & Pieces run the open mics
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| And the streets aren’t safe to walk alone at night
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| So, no, the roads aren’t paved with gold
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| In this sleepy little town that I’ve made my home
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| In this sleepy little town
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| Yeah, you know we can’t catch no zees
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| Keep grinding tryna stack those Ps
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| In the offices and factories
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| Farmers to
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| People gotta earn their keep
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| In this sleepy little town
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| Yeah, you know we can’t catch no Zs
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| Keep grinding tryna stack Queen’s heads
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| You know gotta stack those grands
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| Where an know the barren lands
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| Like they back of they hands
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| In this sleepy little town
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| In this sleepy little town
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| Something just might
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| Jump up and bite you
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| Right
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| Now
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| Where the raw countryside surrounds you
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| The ghettos get neglected by Kirklees council
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| Where man’ll burn trees by the ounce still
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| No brakes
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| No hands
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| Cycling downhill
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| And that’s just how a fella feels
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| It’s like the whole goes round
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| To the sound of the Ferris wheel
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| This forever real
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| This forever will
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| There saying that I’ll switch
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| Even though I never will
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| Get rich and bail
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| Gotta tryna tip the scale
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| Kids out
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| Tryna flip grounds on a bigger scale
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| Pigs’ll have 'em stripped down like a Chippendale
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| On some chip & pin fraud
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| Sitting indoors
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| With your in laws
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| When they knock on the front
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| If you end up inside
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| You still had some fun
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| And so
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| We sip rum and coke
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| And soak up the smoke
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| And hope that your best friend don’t cut your throat
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| It’s just some shit I wrote
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| With the 'Field in mind
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| If you feel the grind, you can probably feel my vibe
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| In this sleepy little town
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| Yeah, you know we can’t catch no zees
|
| Keep grinding tryna stack those Ps
|
| In the offices and factories
|
| Farmers to
|
| People gotta earn their keep
|
| In this sleepy little town
|
| Yeah, you know we can’t catch no Zs
|
| Keep grinding tryna stack Queen’s heads
|
| You know gotta stack those grands
|
| Where an know the barren lands
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| Like they back of they hands
|
| In this sleepy little town
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| See my verse all starts with a newsflash
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| Direct to my mobile phone
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| Told got one in his…
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| See the problem is
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| Breddas petrified of labour
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| But want paper
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| Ex-mill worker sods
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| Flip work for fods
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| And the grass must get cut
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| If you run your gums
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| I truly hope you’re
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| Not the one
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| To run your mouth
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| And chat 'bout man’s private affairs
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| Yo, living in arrears
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| Doubts from your peers
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| See, home is where the hurt is
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| My heart is where is started
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| Been missing for over a year
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| Dearly departed
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| My truth is the sum of all fears
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| Kill a loop with abuse
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| Yo I want you to hear
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| 'Cause this will seduce
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| This bruddas get gears
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| Hold tight
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| For a legitimate wage
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| I hold mics
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| Rest assured I’ll be singing his praise
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| And putting my town on the map
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| Faking graft
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| Live from the 'Field
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| It ain’t flat caps and whippets
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| Envision the real
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| Let me backtrack
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| I just flashback
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| And stand up for what I feel
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| In this sleepy little town
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| Yeah, you know we can’t catch no zees
|
| Keep grinding tryna stack those Ps
|
| In the offices and factories
|
| Farmers to
|
| People gotta earn their keep
|
| In this sleepy little town
|
| Yeah, you know we can’t catch no Zs
|
| Keep grinding tryna stack Queen’s heads
|
| You know gotta stack those grands
|
| Where an know the barren lands
|
| Like they back of they hands
|
| In this sleepy little town |