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qeld - 28 draws later lyrics
[verse 1: bob savage]
trust man’ll bust that
dustpan & brush rap
no car so far
just have a bus p-ss
dishrag rapper fam
spit shit that matters man
you’re coming as cunning as a shit blackadder plan
it’s the big d-cked anarchist taliban
q from the rubble
you knew we were trouble
like taylor swift steppin’ in
places ya never been
ain’t gettin’ in with a face full of ketamin
q don’t move we’re the laziest bretherin
viet cong rap don, aim at your veterans
ain’t waitin’ to let em in, syria shit, -ssad at the door
chased by the state like -ssata shakur
your shit’s so pants, put it back in the drawer
there’s no ‘top bants’, you’re a twat and a bore
joffrey lannister rap
hang you off the bannister rap
try & toss
riot cops
gas canisters back
[verse 2: jenre]
bitter types
my weakness like kryptonite
speaking truth into mics
f-ck your god given rights
you know i kick it right, even though property is theft
i own this device, in this life i properly detest
don’t criticise, i’m possibly the best
my quality is next, yes
they’ll probably honour me in death
i expect, say this obviously in jest
if anybody follows me they’re gonna be misled
honesty’s the best policy it’s said
honestly i can’t not see any solid reason left
to keep this façade going
they just wanna keep the arms flowing
trading in economies of death
and women just commodities for sex
so that’s half the people in the world that are horribly oppressed
normal proletarians gotta lead the left
so i’m staying libertarian communist to death
[verse 3: bob savage]
yo, mps claiming they serve to inspire us
while calling the workers ‘shirkers and skivers’
claiming they’re strivers, management shysters
picket line rap – we adamant strikers
yo… so stop the sermon
six feet deep now drop the dirt in
… claimed she’s not for turning?
dig up her corpse make sure she’s not returning
f-cking thatcherite c-nts
you guys are the reason i have to buy skunk
creating poverty
we hate you honestly
shank up your bailiff, reclaim your property
i’m the soviet satellite sputnik
so don’t be shit thatcherite f-ckwits
justice, leaving red marks
bro, have you even read marx?
protect yo’ neck like ned stark’s
[verse 4: jenre]
i keep a close watch like drones in pakistan
i see you turning whole crowds into traffic jams
heading for the exit
‘cos life on your bars has never been detected
style forever been neglected, i don’t know why you do it mate
i’ll be spitting fire at a stupid rate
sweat till you’re losing weight, you’ll need a skin graft
your chances of beating me went from good to slim fast
so make a quick dash, please get out of here
cos i get pissed fast like it’s just a pound a beer
so get the rounds in here
your whole sound is fear
it’s blue sky thinking, i ain’t seen a cloud all year
you’re dope? don’t be telling me this shit
i’m the spoiled kid at christmas, incredibly gifted
stronger than an irn bru
whatcha tryna do?
yeah you might get clocked, that don’t mean i got time for you
[verse 5: bob savage & jenre]
yo, these are the middle ages
feudal free market, we start to live in cages
restart the civil cases
we target little wages
we marxists
be scarring
weak-hearted fickle faces
so don’t find the bloodshed surprising
when the proletarian undead are rising
police wanna stop them, off with your heads
peter kropotkin, conquest of bread
¡no pasarán! but you’re eager to let ’em p-ss
grown -ss man in a v for vendetta mask
so van damme man, jon-clawed your eyes out
bob slays comrades onstage, your cause is wiped out
…now get to war with ’em
six months later, now get supportin’ ’em
hands round necks of roundhead historians
kush zombies found dead, brown bread – warburton’s
radical historians
reading das kapital, sat in the delorean
cable street battle rap, fascists be deportin’ em
kush zombie antifa rapping crematorium
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