You Can't Rap - New Version
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 wont get that far
Turn your back on Hip Hop bruv 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 rappers' bottom lips drop
Sittin there shocked that some other bloody shit hot
Dude with a mullet, bussin shorts wearing flip flops
Is spittin to a gathering lookin like a criss cross
Of fans lovin Prodigy, Kylie and Slipknot
Nearly coulda happened bruv, 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 rapper's from Fulham get a strange reaction
So I said bye to rap, saw the issue at hand
Some guitar lessons later, formed my own band
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 Babyshambles?
Fuck myself up real properly, like Pete Doherty
Cover of Heat I'm hot property
Everybody's clockin' me I own the crowd
Now I gotta link me up with a Girls Aloud
Next exchange vows now my pops 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 aint none left
And when I need more I'll fake my own death
Right now it's just hit and miss, soon I'll taste a bit of bliss
Bangin chicks at worst with looks like Jayne Middlemiss
Never doin' hideous, it's too bad for busi-ness
I spin when they grin with skin like Darth Sidious
Never out-riddle this, you're all chattin gibberish
Verbal Diarrhoea so you're never getting rid of this
I hear your retorts there's All Sorts like liquorice
I can sense your bitterness, you wishin' you written this
Please put down the mic there's no way you can fool them
Don't be stupid you wont get that far
Turn your back on Hip Hop bruv 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 rappers' bottom lips drop
Sittin there shocked that some other bloody shit hot
Dude with a mullet, bussin shorts wearing flip flops
Is spittin to a gathering lookin like a criss cross
Of fans lovin Prodigy, Kylie and Slipknot
Nearly coulda happened bruv, 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 rapper's from Fulham get a strange reaction
So I said bye to rap, saw the issue at hand
Some guitar lessons later, formed my own band
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 Babyshambles?
Fuck myself up real properly, like Pete Doherty
Cover of Heat I'm hot property
Everybody's clockin' me I own the crowd
Now I gotta link me up with a Girls Aloud
Next exchange vows now my pops 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 aint none left
And when I need more I'll fake my own death
Right now it's just hit and miss, soon I'll taste a bit of bliss
Bangin chicks at worst with looks like Jayne Middlemiss
Never doin' hideous, it's too bad for busi-ness
I spin when they grin with skin like Darth Sidious
Never out-riddle this, you're all chattin gibberish
Verbal Diarrhoea so you're never getting rid of this
I hear your retorts there's All Sorts like liquorice
I can sense your bitterness, you wishin' you written this
Credits
Writer(s): Traditional, Joseph Gardner, Alla Pavlivna Sirenko, Elliot Gleave
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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