Lyrics Gotta Love It - Nolay

Gotta Love It

Remember this day
I’m dying to slay
I jump on the stage man I’m bloody insane
I just fuck up the place
I’ve been spraying for days
Wake up hanging and do it again
Body stay banging like 808 bass
Don’t give it the large come out my face
Wind your neck in
Before I teach you a valuable lesson
Pussy know who you’re disrespecting
Got bodies in a neat collection ah
I spaz out
Pull the gas out
Get your cash out
Take the trash out
Cause you’re garbage bitch you’re harmless
I’m a bastard slightly plastered
Mighty heartless hard regardless
Fuck the ballers love the strugglers
Pussy jugglers kitty munchers
Got some sweeties for the punters
Bunch of stunters fucking wankers
Up in Mayfair with some bankers
Used to blank us now they thank us
Bunch of wankers oops I said that
Did you bed that?
Must regret that
Nah we ain’t friends please don’t beg that
Leave a red patch on your head back
That you can’t hide with a bent cap
(Raaaaaah)
Better run for the hills
You might pass Jack And Jill
I’ve never been so ill
Shit never been this real
You’ve never seen such skill
Gotta love it
Bitch don’t front like you hate my shit
That’s a myth be real with it like
Gotta love it
Boy don’t front like you hate my shit that’s a myth be real with it like
Gotta Love It
Gotta Love It
Gotta Love It
Gotta Love It
Gotta Love It
Gotta Love It
Gotta Love It
Gotta Love It
I’m old school like ting a ling a ling
School bell a ring
Knife and fork fi fight di dumpling
Pussy go take a piss in the wind
So sick I’ll take a piss on the Kings
On point I’m never missing a thing
Claim you’re mans wife
But you’re missing a ring (um)
Mad ting
Sad ting
And by the looks of it your man
Love a bad ting
Lovely jubbly
Jog on darling I’m the bees knees
Come on treacle drop me out please
You’re about as relevant as my last sneeze
Getting pissed for the hell of it
Drinks are on me
Pinky on freeze
Smile and say cheese
So I can post it on Instagram
Then buss shots to your man
Cause he’s into grams
Then I roll off on my jack jones
Pat Malone Tod Sloane
You made a right pigs ear of it
ERHM ERHM
The cheek of it
It’s curtains Richard Burtons
You’re brown bread in other words dead
Smoking that dope
Rolling Bob Hope
Traces of Coke all over my coat
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Me scared?
of who?
how?
where?
Stop telling Scott Gibbs
Telling tall tales telling those fibs
Love my geezer, fridge freezer, Julius Caesar
Lemon Squeezer
Gotta love it
Bitch don’t front like you hate my shit
That’s a myth be real with it like
Gotta love it
Boy don’t front like you hate my shit that’s a myth be real with it like
Gotta Love It
Gotta Love It
Gotta Love It
Gotta Love It
Gotta Love It
Gotta Love It
Gotta Love It
Gotta Love It