Lyrics Butter Fly - Lee Scott, Dirty Dike

Butter Fly

I’m Slick like a Johnny Barnes scissor kick
Round ours Robbie’s God and Grobbelaar’s Innocent
Shankly’s sons, early 90's Cassy scum
Taxing CAPRI Sun’s and stashing them at me Mums
A lack of funds, gather crumbs and sink bevies
The kids on the express way bridges that flick pennies
Why even try like?
You’ll get YOUR fucking eye wiped
It’s not a fickle minds life, thinking
Picking at me chicken fried rice
Indifferent, bizzies listen in and think we’re bickering
The kip of them though I’m sick of them
Like a clique of blind mice that wouldn’t notice if I told them
And they lived and died twice
Ignant?
Quite right, the world in which we live in
Is a massive ball of izm and I’m a master of all that isn’t
Caught you slipping, called your WOMEN over
Tripping sober, until I’m rich as shit tipping Hova
Class, like Minnesota Fatts
By the look of their silhouettes I think their holding bats
Not a splab lad take a wholesome drag
Rolling stoned 'til I’m broken bad
Even Obi Wan Kenobi’s blagged
Blah lid, fucking you up for something your Ma did
Just to rhyme it, undermining major up and coming signings
Spitting like the first proletarian that ever rhymed a word
Mostly shit about Mary and the times we shared, on this DYINGearth