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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 evening's 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 that 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 a 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 that 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 a charm, a bracelet's arm Snatching itself back from the wrong palm Luck is a charm, a bracelet's 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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