Again I step out my yard Head swings round, clocks my landlord Start chippin' up the road cos I owe him three-weeks dough
The ship's sinkin', tele's on the blink 'n' in the pub it's one beer to last all evening Later on chips for feedin'
When the quids are down Try sneakin' a bottle of brandy round bouncers into the Ministry Of Sound Scored, Moffat, back indoors with a profit 'cos they do say havin' no money forces one to make the right choices on life each day If you can't pay you can't play
Success hides a multitude of sins But I ain't successful and my piggy-bank's still in the bin, Been there since I was a kid
Goin' round in circles, not being careful but say; "I get paid on Friday, can't wait to live life my way"
'cos on the streets I'm just a geezer I gotta make ends meet, yeah? Gotta do what I need to S**t, we all got our runnin's now On the streets I'm just a geezer Gotta make ends meet, yeah? Gotta do what I need to S**t, we all got our runnin's now
Brut pocket I'm back in the Burassic seat again After spending sixty pound last week on beers with friends Brought it all on myself see, granted Now I'm scorin' draw for everyone to get my next spliff sorted Hang round mum's house to get smothered Got no tins in the cupboard this week Hold on to your seat 'cos it's all gone a bit Pete Live for the moment said he *wrong* Downin' beers out of my tree, now the moment's passed the cash is a distant memory You know things are bleak when you're tellin' the birds you asked out last week that things
Are busy When really you've got no dough in the piggy Two days after pay day's clocked And it's back at The Black Dog stuffin' them socks into pool table pockets
I'm skint, got no moolah Need to get some colour in my cheeks says mum That'll be my English inner city tan I'm skinny like a woman, need to get some punan' through the door *Please Sir, can I have some more?* Oi. Oi, lend me a tenner so I can go to the chip-shop, Twenty-four garage and then for a quick top, This time opting for the reassuringly cheap option
When the quids are down, My Schott hoodie's my ball gown My essential accessory is my bad day frown 'cos, Life in the third-class carriage can be evil When your only ticket to freedom is a permit to travel So, Uncle Shiner, you best go get the spade and dig me a grave 'cos I can't pay the rent but I got ' hundred-and-nine pound pair o' trainers on
La la la And then this geezer turned round to me and said "What are you doing, you twat" And I was like "What the f**k, is this, what are you saying, you div?" Oi... that's it.