| Spiv: I was born a slum gutter infantile
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| Brute-force educated, delinquent juvenile
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| I am a product of mass produced factory fodder
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| Streets full of tenement blocks, rat infested filth and squalor
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| I left school, went straight on the dole
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| And unemployment’s no enjoyment
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| Welfare State owned my mind and my body and my soul
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| So I worked my way up to be a second-hand car spiv
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| But don’t judge me harshly because I’m just a slum kid
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| I built up my business with a quick wit and fist
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| So don’t double-cross me or my hoods will dissect you
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| With their black jacks and shivs
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| Slum kids never get a break, they’ve got to fight their way up
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| Beg and steal, wheel and deal
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| Sweat blood to earn a buck
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| I didn’t want to work on the factory floor
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| I wasn’t content, I wanted more
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| Than be a slave to a lathe
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| Work all day and go home bored
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| So a second-hand car spiv was what I became
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| I built an empire because I used my brains
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| Chorus: He was a second-hand car spiv up from the slums
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| So don’t judge him harshly because he’s just a slum kid
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| Then he moved into property, stocks and shares
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| Spiv: And into high finance and you’ve got to agree
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| That running a multi-million corporation
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| Sure beats selling cars second-hand
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| Chorus: Once he sold old worn out heaps to the punters on the street
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| Spiv: Now I’m in control of the country as a whole
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| And the world is at my feet
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| Chorus: The world is at his feet
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| Spiv: Power, power, I’ve got power oozing out of me
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| And when you think of all the things I’ve done
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| It says a lot for one
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| Who worked his way up from the streets
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| Yes I’m a second-hand car spiv
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| Do a deal, buy and sell
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| It’s my trade, I know it well
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| Make a sale, ring the bell
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| And let the suckers go to hell
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| Bank the profits, count the change
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| Another sucker comes your way
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| Life is a crooked game
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| And slum kids never change |