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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
Lyricist: Sleaford Mods
Lyrics:
(I had, I had) I had an organic chicken it was shit As the day played out in the evenings pit Homeowner man, I'm a family guy Brex-City roller we do and still die Less than zero, flat in the head Lobbing up drugs to get out of us heads Every fucking week there's another Black Death Another old man in a robe and that, yeah bleak Dale Winton, Supermarket Sweep Feudals got a game too. it ain't as bad There's a bigger prize and it's called land grab Have that, oh ta, I think I'll call myself Lord Bastard of Sir Bast dar dar
Throw a load round, let it rot, on the ground Throw a load round, let it rot, on the ground
Ain't cuddly what you doing, sod your teddy bear Sod your little promises nobody fucking cares Hanging out the back, of the monied few Lifeless tears for the attentive few And all at once we will realise It will happen suddenly You ain't fucking cuddly
A life sentence down, LOL, what next? Exorcist puke on my chatty vest The score of the street past the shops rotting meat The death of the customer, no meet, no greet No half time, a full 90 minutes Screaming shit all the time, shit players Hair transplants, Leo Sayers What does million quid a week bring When your brain can't tell your legs to kick the fucking thing?
Throw a load round, let it rot, on the ground Throw a load round, let it rot, on the ground
Ain't cuddly what you doing, sod your teddy bear Sod your little promises nobody fucking cares Hanging out the back, of the monied few Lifeless tears for the attentive few And all at once we will realise It will happen suddenly You ain't fucking cuddly
Reduced timetable as the stairs get blocked At iPhone level, no joke I draw a tenner out and my fingers get sniffed On the used 10 pound note's Coke, no joke Overground and the sites don't encourage good learning My fingers drop shit Finger nails are curling They're fucking gurning Lob gob, this is our tree but there's no chance Of reaching the tree top or what Probably not, as the case may be Luck is charm, a bracelets arm Snatching itself back from the wrong palm Luck is charm, a bracelets arm Snatching itself back from the wrong palm
Throw a load round, let it rot, on the ground Throw a load round, let it rot, on the ground
Ain't cuddly what you doing, sod your teddy bear Sod your little promises nobody fucking cares Hanging out the back, of the monied few Lifeless tears for the attentive few And all at once we will realise It will happen suddenly You ain't that fucking cuddly It will happen suddenly You ain't that fucking cuddly It will happen suddenly You ain't that fucking cuddly
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