You Can't Rap

(albüm: What We Made - 2007)

You can't rap, my friend, you're white and you're from Fulham
Please put down the mic, there's no way you can fool them
Don't be stupid, you won't get that far
Turn your back on Hip Hop, bro, and go and play guitar

Of all the possibilities I ever coulda chosen
Supposing career wise I'd picked Hip Hop
Imagine all the tip top rapper's bottom lips drop
Sitting there shocked that some other bloody shit hot
Dude with a mullet, bussin shorts, wearing flip flops
Is spitting to a gathering looking like a criss cross
Of fans loving Prodigy, Kylie and Slipknot
Nearly coulda happened bro, look at me, I shit not
Little Elliot rhymes for the hell of it
If only he was ghetto mans, maybe we would sell a bit
I tried hard to dig up the credentials
Even thought about putting gold in my dentals
An Anglo Saxon with a broken accent
But rappers from Fulham get a strange reaction
I said bye to Rap, saw the issue at hand
Some guitar lessons later, formed my own band

You can't rap, my friend, you're white and you're from Fulham
Please put down the mic, there's no way you can fool them
Don't be stupid, you won't get that far
Turn your back on Hip Hop, bro, and go and play guitar

Attention seeking, how far should a man go?
Cut his ear off like Vincent Van Gogh
Dash cash to the crowd so the venue scrambles
Turn my good life into a baby shambles
Fuck myself up real properly like Pete Doherty
Cover of heat, I'm hot property
Everybody's clocking me, I own the crowd
Then I gotta link me up with a girls aloud
Next, exchange vows now my pop's is proud
There's a nine on my cloud, I'm as pleased as I ever been, bro
Mans flash like Jose Mourinho
Women crave me like bottles of pinot
Now I've got big I can fight photographers
Bang the obvious, please biographers
Spend currency 'til there ain't none left
And when I need more I'll fake my own death

You can't rap, my friend, you're white and you're from Fulham
Please put down the mic, there's no way you can fool them
Don't be stupid, you won't get that far
Turn your back on Hip Hop, bro, and go and play guitar

Right now it's just hit and miss, soon I'll taste a bit of bliss
Banging chicks at worst with looks like Jayne Middlemiss
Never doing hideous, it's too bad for business
I spin when they grin with skin like Darth Sidious
Never out-riddle this, all chatting gibberish
Verbal diarrhea so you're never getting rid of this
I hear your retorts, there's all sorts like liquorice
I can sense your bitterness, you wishing you written this

You can't rap, my friend, you're white and you're from Fulham
Please put down the mic, there's no way you can fool them
Don't be stupid, you won't get that far
Turn your back on Hip Hop, bro, and go and play guitar