Brighton male hip hop, yeah, like monkeys up a tree Swinging apes with mouths agape and zero poetry Cliche after boring, their rhymes soon get you snoring They got no fight, their beats are lite They scratch like kittens in the nite Brighton male hip hop, yeah, so fuckin' whattery Brighton male hip hop, nah, it's not good for you or me It just appeals to one or two guys, all of 'em lobotomized Or so they fuckin' should be But hey, give 'em the benefit of the doubt, they can't rap or rhyme or do fuck owt, they can't even get a mofo job but They're good at opening their big phat gob Brighton male hip hop, yeah, who'd want to go see 'em Their crowds are sparse, no-one can bear 'em Their audience has to be dragged in by a hearse (poor fuckin' punters, please spare 'em) They just love each other, male Brighton hip hop crews They scratch each other's backs, and screw each others trews Brighton male hip hop, nah, I'm giving it a miss Slipjam B is the death of kiss, the death of life and all good stuff You go there once, and think blimey enough's enough Where's the soul, where's the style, where's originality? But hey they're babies, they've still got their virginality Can they help but wank around with all that bum fluff mucking up the sound Non conformists, my arse, they're so staid they make you weep Boring after cliche, their lyrics make you not only sleep but wanna creep into a coffin jezus did these guys go to school or did they just stay hom sick coughing, being coddled by their mamas, 'cause their command of language is worse than Norfolk farmers Ooh aarrhh, ooh aaarh eh, Brighton male hip hop they got fuck all to say (Thats right!)
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Copy to Clipboard: Brighton male hip hop, yeah, like monkeys up a tree Swinging apes with mouths agape and zero poetry Cliche after boring, their rhymes soon get you snoring They got no fight, their beats are lite They scratch like kittens in the nite Brighton male hip hop, yeah, so fuckin' whattery Brighton male hip hop, nah, it's not good for you or me It just appeals to one or two guys, all of 'em lobotomized Or so they fuckin' should be But hey, give 'em the benefit of the doubt, they can't rap or rhyme or do fuck owt, they can't even get a mofo job but They're good at opening their big phat gob Brighton male hip hop, yeah, who'd want to go see 'em Their crowds are sparse, no-one can bear 'em Their audience has to be dragged in by a hearse (poor fuckin' punters, please spare 'em) They just love each other, male Brighton hip hop crews They scratch each other's backs, and screw each others trews Brighton male hip hop, nah, I'm giving it a miss Slipjam B is the death of kiss, the death of life and all good stuff You go there once, and think blimey enough's enough Where's the soul, where's the style, where's originality? But hey they're babies, they've still got their virginality Can they help but wank around with all that bum fluff mucking up the sound Non conformists, my arse, they're so staid they make you weep Boring after cliche, their lyrics make you not only sleep but wanna creep into a coffin jezus did these guys go to school or did they just stay hom sick coughing, being coddled by their mamas, 'cause their command of language is worse than Norfolk farmers Ooh aarrhh, ooh aaarh eh, Brighton male hip hop they got fuck all to say (Thats right!)
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