| Three years ago I owed me bollox out
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| Empty pockets empty wallets I smoked every product out
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| Orange bud and shark attack
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| I put this place on whopper drought
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| Ridin' moths from India cause I’m into the exotic trout
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| I never wrap up when I’m ridin' fat fucks
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| And I never bally up when I’m robbin' Ladbrokes
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| I take ya to the crooks and they cooked all the books
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| Now I’m sleepin' on the bus and all the boys run amuck
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| Me, Casper, Sid, Baba and Jay were always on the float
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| Unemployed and baked to bits
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| We’re skint though, yes we’re proper broke
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| We do fuck all pal
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| Everybody thinks we’re dopes
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| Yet their stuck in work while we get mashed and always drop the yokes
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| We’re on the float
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| We’re on the scope
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| We’re takin' yokes pal pass the roach but watch the coat
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| One more hot rock me ma' will cut me throat
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| I’ve no time for fat thicks
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| I never pay me taxes
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| A one way ticket to the 'Dam to smoke out the Abraxas
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| I’m skinnin' up a fat thing
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| While rippin' up me king skins
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| I win four grams from Dan Creek
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| Boys there’s John Paul and Dean Flynn
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| What’s up, What’s up, What’s up, What’s up, What’s up, What’s up,
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| Yeah on the float
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| What’s up, What’s up, What’s up, What’s up, What’s up, What’s up,
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| I have a sweaty gooch
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| Cause we be always on the float
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| Lock your bike, we’re on the stroke
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| Everybody says we’re dopes
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| But everyone’s stuck in a poxy nine to five
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| We be always on the float
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| On the labour get the dole
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| You don’t like it, you can get the boat
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| But they’re the one stuck in a poxy nine to five
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| (Eskimo Supreme)
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| I can’t believe I used to work a fuckin' job
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| Every time I’d be in work I’d want to load me fuckin' boss
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| And all me lick arse colleagues seemed to want to do was suck his knob
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| Fuck wearin' a shirt and tie I’m usually decked out in Lacoste
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| Fuck your job
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| I’d rather be a bum
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| Smoke green all day stay at home pullin' me plum
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| I don’t take orders pal I take cheese and lettuce on me spicy chicken fillet
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| roll yis cretins do yis fuckin' get it
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| I stopped textin' mots when I discovered brazzers
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| Less stress no text
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| Gets yer hole much faster
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| Pussy’s all I’m after
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| A brazzer is the answer
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| Said fifty when I asked her
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| I banged her then I cracked her
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| I dig to the face and a knee to the head then a hook to the stomach and a boot
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| to the legs
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| Took me money back off the brazzer pal and then I fled
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| Back to the gaff
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| Smoke in the sacks
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| Burnin' the hash had fifty in me khaks
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| On the float
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| Cause we be always on the float
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| Lock your bike, we’re on the stroke
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| Everybody says we’re dopes
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| But they’re the ones stuck in a poxy nine to five
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| We be always on the float
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| On the labour get the dole
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| You don’t like it, you can get the boat
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| But they’re the one stuck in a poxy nine to five
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| Yeeah, on the float! |