Tales of Self Preservation Gone Wrong

by Bee Mick See

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credits

released May 25, 2012

Written, Recorded and Produced by Bee Mick See
Executive Producers: Rocky O'Reilly and Paul Denver
Contributing musicians, rappers, helpers...
Kevin Graham, Kevin Jones, Stephen Faherty, Patreece Lundy, James "Sib" McCauley, Michael "Beefcake" Dempsey, David "Dee from pocket Billiards" Mulholland, Charlie Riley, Cara Cowan, Marty Riot, Slaine, Dunbar, Cushla Gillespie, Dave Hanna, Damien McErlean, Jim "Prince of Punx" Donaghy, Roysta, Taylor, Shunty McShunt, Barney, Charley Brown, Clare Hickey and my wee niece Lacey.

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about

Bee Mick See Belfast, UK

Born in Portland. Lives in Belfast.
Raps and composes music.

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Track Name: Intro
So I’m just back from my full body treatment at the day spa in Hillsborough - considering what to put on. I’m thinking - ' my little black Dior dress, my new red Manolo’s and of course I never leave the house without the Gucci bag!

So I’m making my way to the house of Fraser while thanking whoever it was that decided at last to put a shopping complex in Belfast that has some class. Having to go to New York for all my clothes was becoming tiresome - and I’m also worried about the effects of jet lag on the ageing process.

Anyway, I’m just after spending nine hundred pounds that daddy gave me on a dress for tonight when ‘Malone Grange’ Nichola rings me. It’s so hard to be civil to people of a lower class than yourself.

After inquiring how she got my number I told her I planned to go to the Front Page to see some spide from Belfast rapping about the problems of the working classes?

I told her she should come. She would understand the material and fit in with the unsavory clientele of the seedy public house… She seemed upset. I told her it wasn’t my fault that she had a reputation for being as easy as a fresher in Kelly’s. She hung up.

So I arrive at the front page and immediately I feel like I’m at an audition for Oliver Twist. These people are actual travelers!

So standing in front of the stage that night I’m thinking po - tential. The baggy clothes will have to go of course - and the hair - and probably the accent. But we can work on him. Bottom line is – he’s an artiste - and artistes - are never lower class.

So I’m speaking to Felicity the following morning and I’m like O.M.G. - last night’s escapades… you will never believe the scandal! I filled her in on all the gossip and said could you imagine it? Me? The girlfriend of a famous Belfast Rapper? And he might even write a song about me - and think of the wedding pictures in the Ulster Tatler! And all of a sudden felicity rudely interrupts me… ‘Bee Mick See…oh I’ve heard of him. You know he’s fucked Sharon? And he was fucking shit. And he’s gross. And he’s not even from Belfast…he’s a fucking yank!
Track Name: I'm Not Like You
Verse 1
A teenage hermit – like crabs in gees
My mates brought me misery
So I ditched those there enemies
To find the friend in me
Those cunts made – me feel lesser
In solitude I felt much better
Let my peers, the pressure - pressure
Fucked out lies, for honest gestures

Found myself - in my own wee head
Took the don't give a fuck route instead
Deep in thought – self stylin’
Swapped cryin’ for smilin’
I got bullied didn’t need a shrink
Just a pen a pad and time to think
Like Robert Johnson I sang the blues
Homesick – alone sick – with nout to do

Chorus
I'm not like you - keep it in your head
I'm - Not - Like - You

Verse 2
Confident - used to lack that quality
Didn't get that from - St. Malachy's
Them cunts – want a flock of sheep
Just as well I self taught to lead
From back of class - learnt stacks of knowledge
A 2:1 in life, without the college
Give us the long route – in this life
I’m sharp like a blade on a Limerick knife

Aye…I’m as hard as water
My brain’s rare like Geldoff’s daughter
So I learned to ignore
Those dicks ceased to care anymore
I’ve a hard head – mentally – physically
Strict attitudes don’t yap like Yosemite
Sam – yes ma’am – I’m a man
But – but I’m no football fan

Straightened my back
Used both straps on my red rucksack
Gained respect from those jerks
Shocked I walked with – self worth
Fickle ones – mocked at the start
I stayed strong like Wim Hof’s heart
Paid my dues – drank my juice
Learned all about what it’s like to lose

Verse 3
The lads – let me in their crowd
Head locked me to break me down
But this locksmith picked their grip open
Back when I was softly spoken
Broke my mould – it had to go
Now I walk by cunts with nout to show
Deadbeat dads – aerosol bags
And all this talk about shit they had
Track Name: Laryngitis
Chorus
Laryngitis…has got a grip on me
Laryngitis…it won’t let me be

Verse 1 My throat don’t want me anymore
Been treating her like a
Bedford Street whore
Working her hard - with no affection
When she’s sore - pay no attention
It hurts to laugh - hurts to cough
Hurts to rap, Hurts to talk
I’m raging - cuz my doctor can’t help
But truth be told - I blame myself

Motherfucker I’m ill - and sick
Tell Mary Harney - I feel wick
Tell Mike - D it’s not time to get ill
I’m going to need a powerful will
Cuz vocal rest, is the only approach
Of sorting out my fucked up throat
With a larynx raw - and looking grotesque
I’m going on a silent protest

Verse 2
H-2-0 - guzz-l-er
8 month sore throat suf-fer-er
Lost at sea like a cock-l-ers
Exhausted like old muff-l-ers
Ballix - I’m immune to Lockets
Got a grip of sick-line dockets
Sir piss-a-lot - I’m always peein’
Drink enough water for ten Somalian’s

Off the liquid - cow’s produce
Plus salty shit and pure fruit juice
No more grass - or spicy foods
No more gigs - no more booze
That happiness - an elaborate ruse
Cuz I’ve been paying for all my dues
“But patience - it’s a - virtue
If ye give up it’ll only hurt you”

Verse 3
9 – months – without the sauce
Live like monks in Mount Athos
Feel trapped - like citizens of China
My larynx morphed into a vagina
Anal about throw maintenance
Hold my breath around cigarettes
Honey ‘n’ lemon makes no difference
How could I of been so ignorant?

To think shoutin’ - loutin’d be Ok
With beer, whiskey and grass that’s sprayed
Throat was fucked, but I didn’t care
Until I wound up in this dull nightmare
A spoilsport, in a party gaff
So – don’t smoke - in my flat
“Aye - Brendy killed the craic”
Fuck that - Brendy wants his voice back

Verse 4
Lady-less – a sober mess
On self-sanctioned – house arrest
Eating right – drinkin’ less
My ship’s a sinkin’ mess
Told my ma – I’m on the fritzle
My head’s like potassium crystals
Been stewing in my own spittle
Life ain’t sweet like a pack of Skittles

Emotions are – up the left
A mute – only – I’m not deaf
Shattered – I’ve got nothing left
An all time low - bass clef
Can’t bounce back – getting older
Longest sore throat record holder
Weather’s dry – it’s getting colder
Wrong place - wrong time like British soldiers

End
Get – the fuck out – of my throat – you cunt
Tell – your mates – that I've had enough
You – have long – overstayed your welcome
Your lease – has been up – for the past 6 months
Track Name: North of the Island
Chorus
In the north of the island
We get a good bit of summertime
The weather’s fine, the sun it shines
But people still find time to whine
A wee bit of rain, and we complain
As if it’s always been this way
Enjoy the shit you’ve got the day
Tomorrow - it’ll be away

Verse 1
Walk through town - feels like a disco
Looking my own, free range nympho
Girls - looking savory like Bisto
Thong, thong - God bless Sisqo
I’m your average neighborhood perve
Salivate to voluptuous curves
My sex like is well preserved
I gawk in peace - I’m a bag of nerves

I’d like a girl with a long skirt - short legs
Soya milk - and a packet of fegs
Half skin head - rest full of dreads
Peculiar - but don’t melt heads
I’ll work her ground - with my bony finger
Turn her into an operatic singer
It’s a bit better - if she’s a minger
And I don’t care if her pubes are ginger

Verse 2
Take a walk up the Cavehill - just chill
The hangover - I will distill
My thoughts come out like an oil spill
I’m a young adult - with time to kill
Diffuse in the sunshine…
Bad thoughts lose pace - get left behind
Eternal sunshine with a spotted mind
Everything is better - with some time

Smile when I want to - mother fuck you
Get lost out in Timbuktu
Swim free in a good brew
Free like a hard cunt wearing a tutu
I thought briefly about my prologue
My misery I will not prolong
But I miss my granny - and I miss my dog
So I do what I want cuz life ain’t long

Verse 3
Wake up when I’m not tired
Do the things my heart desires
At the Conor Building - I’m a liar
Cuz I don’t want to be hired
Copy Jamie Oliver for a cheap meal
Get a few quid, for a wee deal
My true joy I will not conceal
I just want to feel

A girl on my ballsack
And love running through my cardiac
Solidarity - like the all Blacks
A vibe - like a Bob Marley track
Beginning to learn - when to fuck up
Biding my time be-fore a new pup
Throwing weak jabs at laryngitis
Been driving a Caribbean bus
Track Name: Punk Hoplican Dissidents
Verse 1 (Bee)
Religion and politics - don't mix
Like pedophiles - and pic 'n' mix
Like naked chicks - and flaccid dicks
Like battered fish - and Weetabix
But religion and politics share a home
1st Minister's wife's a homophobe
That Pro Choice - gets no vote
Cuz these cunts fear them bible quotes

We need to forget tradition
Legal abortion's a good decision
Start thinking outside the box
Fuck all them there tribal thoughts
Up North - it bees promising
But there's still wankers - on the fringe
Hate the sinner - love the sin
God hex Mrs. Robinson

Chorus (Kev Bones)
Rape - these - politicians
NI's still run by religion
Real issues - are not important
No MP - supports abortion

Ignorance dictates their decision
"Ignore increased carbon emissions"
These backward cunts - don't like change
"Reward the thugs - boycott the gays"

Verse 2 (Barney)
Christianity’s – views on profanity
Inform your bigotry or high horse morality
Violence against those with different sexuality
Expresses nothing but your small minded actuality
Pig ignorant people – pig ignorant place
Fighting about religion – fighting about race
Burning houses, angry mobs away with out a trace
Back you in the next-door balaclava for a face

Normal people don’t do that – they just don’t give a fuck
Say it’s awful - shake their heads - rob and run amuck
Brought it on themselves - you know I’m not a racist but
Everyone’s a bigot in this squalid piece of muck
Hatred’s spilling over you can see it in the news
Race war fuelled by poverty and booze
Wilson and the peelers say it was two drunken youths
Moved a hundred people would you ever tell the truth?

Verse 3 (Slaine)
If they had it their way it would be back to the old days
Afraid to walk the streets on the urban clearways
Looking over your shoulder as you walk home at night
Cuz some inbred fuckers feel the need to fight
It’s just primal, rage – hate breeds hate
Modern day cave dwelling sub secluded estate
Tell you one thing though – with all being said
No immigrant has ever put a gun to my head
It was you – who filled my childhood with fear
It was you – built the roadblocks year after year
It was you – who dragged out this bullshit war
It was you – and you’re still living next door
When ye hear a local accent my heartbeat jumps
Incase it’s one of them who’s got his hand on a pump
What’s wrong – was that too close to the bone?
If you had it your way you’d be here on your own

Verse 4 (Bee)
3 pints in - I make no sense
Just like Republican dissidents
Hypocrites - bigot pricks
Target their own - like bloods and crips
Combat 18 - don't reflect me
Foreigners they don't bother me
If there's no black in the Union Jack
Then take your fucking flag back

Teigs do it too - not just snouts
On the New Lodge Indians got fucked out
So don't you hide - behind your Guinness
Irish and British - both racist

Freedom fighters - not anymore
Just thugs - gangsters - traitors
They'll do your knees if you’re on their turf
They'll sort ye out if ye need a score
Those Contos don't keep it real
Like vegans - consuming veal
But soldiers they be out for the thrill
And Massereene staff were trained to kill

Verse 5 (shunt)
If it ain't broke bitch - watch me break it
On Slumdog Millionaire fucks no fakin'
I'm statin' - you'll get left anally achin'
Cuz today's pig is tomorrow's bacon
Your systems in hell - it's dead as a dinosaur
I won't stop rooting ‘til your whole vaginas sore
Dirtocre - going down in folklore
The Ginger Jesus white king of the boak-core

Cunt – the Shunt's a cold front dissent
Intent on a sexually disturbing event
I commence - to sticky up your ass and your pants
You’re just a fucking number like the age of consent
It's nonsense - all bullshit and pretence
If ye sense incompetence get the fuck off the fence
Whip your begs for these slegs & fegs
And make them suck your dick and claim that as expense
Track Name: Aww Shucks
Verse 1
Aww shucks – think I’m in love
But it’s probably more like lust
Most birds I don’t give a fuck
But love you’re stuck – love you’re stuck
Inside my head like – cerebellum
Babe you’re sweet like – water – melon
You can be the early 80’s – smellin’
I’ll play the role of Mount St Helens

Chorus
…Let’s be more than friends
We can make love – instead
Hit the bed – and do that shit again
I thought my heart was dead
Until I seen your lens
I got lost in them
And I don’t want directions
This is not about erections
Cuz your love be infectious
Like the death penalty in Texas
So come on love just text us
And tell me you concur
Cuz I’ve been feeling burr
And I think you could cure
The heartache I endure

Verse 2
First time I met you – I was steamin’
Can’t remember – that there weekend
The mouth of me – was truly leapin’
All my manners – they were weakened
But you just looked so damn appealin’
I had to say what I was feelin’
Maybe it was – the mephedrone speakin’
But I think you found me intriguin’

But I’m all right – and you’re so great
And a birdie told me you liked my mate
My first impression was too risqué
Like Michael Stone on that Milltown day
Well that’s no bother sure I can wait
I’m patient – I procrastinate
Cuz you’re so sweet and soft like crêpes
All I ask is that we date





Verse 3
Your eyes be looking so Mary – poppins
Hole’s like a big bag of grass – whoppin’
We can do pretend Christmas – shoppin’
Penis the gift – your clit the wrappin’
I’m like a book being read – open
Thinking a bunch about you – hopin’
We convert text to sex – gropin’
Finish that shit in bed – soakin’

I’m not a whole lot to look at – true
Cuter than Andrex puppies – you
Shot me down like an F22
Been wrecking my head like a spide – glue
Let’s do breathing exercises – together
Eat all veggie in shitty – weather
…Just want to get to know you better
Just want to get to know you better

Verse 4
About her I don’t know many things
But this don’t mean much of anything
I know she sings – and know she brings
A smile to this here human being
Every time I see her – I want her more
She’s rock cocaine – I’m a crack whore
I’m a wee stoner – she’s a wee score
For her I’d delete all my porn

Out with her’s where I want to be – hangin’
Body’s like two porn stars – bangin’
But I’m the filth – and she’s the Lagan
I’ve got to be with her – shaggin’
…Wanna shoot her up - needles
We can come together – Beatles
Raw – save costs on bags – Lidl
Don’t want to swap my box – deal

Verse 5
Looks I’m wishing I didn’t - lack
It’s becoming clear – you don’t like me back
I’ve pulled some crackers – in the past
But this means nout without your ass
Never been one to fight for love
If it’s there I shouldn’t have to throw a punch
It should just fit like bolts in nuts
If it don’t click I just give up
Track Name: It Pays to Sign On
Verse 1
I’m a clunger – dole sponger
Sucking your shit just like a plunger
Not effected by the credit cruncher
Always been able to avoid hunger
Cash – don’t mean shit to me
In school I wasn’t listening
“But you’ll be skint with no degree”
Why pay when you can get for free?
I make money like a full time job
Only I get to do what the fuck I want

The tax payer – pays my wage
Housing benefit helps me to save
Electricity – that’s chipped mate
Heating’s all economy 8
Or seven, I’m in financial heaven
Sleep at midnight wake up at eleven
TV license man - I’ll never let in
The real world - will never get in
It’s what I want to do, it’s what I want to do
My biggest fear is working for you

Chorus
I could work – but I don’t wanna
When I’ve benefits, tunes and marijuana
I wake up – when I wanna
Cuz I couldn’t be fucked with this 9 to 5 drama
“You’re a waster – you’re a bum - raping my tax funds”
But you slave for a wage that is minimum
I got sick of being a low paid pawn
And I clicked on quick that it pays – to sign on

Verse 2
*

Work - nada – I don’t wanna
Flip those beds up in the Ramada
Time on my hands– I’ve a lotta
Love for my muckers driving their lada’s
Second hand clothes I don’t wear Prada
Full time job is not what Ivana
Couldn’t stress more with a diacritic fada
As long as my heart’s set like a Claddagh
The best things in life are free
So the birds and bees can have my money

Verse 3
Don’t judge me – don’t do that
Your tax funds the war in Iraq
Sure most MPs have got two flats
So I figure I’ll take a wee bit back
Responsibility - I truly lack
The minimum wage is fucking whack
And fifteen year olds think I can rap
So fuck work – I’m too cool to do that
Working class – working class - I’m not working class
Sure I don’t work – I just pass – my time away upon my ass

But sometimes I started thinking bad thoughts like
Fuck it – maybe I’ll get a job
Cuz my life it seems far from full
All I do is sit on my hole – sign the dole
Go on the pull – to try and get my hole
But listen kids – I’ve a mission
Talking absolute shite for a livin’

Outro
Don't you wish you didn't have a job like me?
Don't you wish you wish that you could sleep in like me?
Don't you wish you wish that you could be a bum like me?
Don'tcha - Don'tcha
Track Name: Spides Say the Silliest of Things
Verse 1
You’re a bore – no style to mimic
I’ve seen more craic in a rehab clinic
More craic in asphalt – freshly paved
Or post-botox to a youthful face
This is pre-written – suitable for you
I’ll end yer career send you to the bru
Your lyrics are shite – I’ll give you advice
Go audition for the Belfast version of 5ive

You can’t rap – you’ve got no game
I’ve a song about you – no one knows your name
You’re a rip off – like Jewish foreskin tips
“That makes no sense” – of course it did
Uhh – I’ve a message that’s poignant
Aim low – avoid disappointment
I’ll put you’re words on life support – in a coma
And make you known for shit things like Omagh

Chorus
Bee Mick See- He Can’t Rap
All His – Beats are Whack

Verse 2
I’ll fuck you up – like cystic fibrosis
Mangle your head like cannabis psychosis
You’re a haploid cunt – like meiosis
I’ll rip you apart at the centre like mitosis
Your centrioles’ll be fucked in the end
You attacked with a fist – I’m back with a pen
Got the balls to scrap – on stage you’re scundered
A yellow wee bastard like Antrim colours

Boojum staff’ll teach you how to rap
The applause you get – triple tracked hand claps
You’re fucking thick – like a pint of Guinness
Why are ye pissed sure ignorance is bliss?
In the documentary – who did we see?
Not you – but we seen me
You’re more hip hop – I forget the elements
What the fuck’s knowledge if you’re not intelligent?

Verse 3
You smacked me – I’m a better rapper
Got the best of me – I’m still a better rapper
Your more street – I’m a better rapper
More hip hop – I’m still a better rapper
Your rhymes are soft like heather laced meadows
A poor man’s Belfast version of Devvo
Other MCs hungry – you’re Lee Marvin
With knock off flows – from the market

Your rhymes are thin – like cheap wallpaper
You couldn’t survive - if you were Gloria Gaynor
Your words soft-core – like catchy kisses
I’ve seen better rappers in Dunnes at Christmas
I’ve no street cred – that don’t bother me
I’m well known – no one’s even heard of ye
I don’t give a fuck that you apologized
Cuz I despise spides and the joys that they ride
Track Name: Enjoy Losing feat. Dunbar TF
Chorus
I
Don’t want to be the future
I want to be a loser
I don’t want to win

Verse 1
I chill… imitating a Buddhist
Like vegetables – I’m full of goodness
Talking shite – like Mystic Meg
If I was a pint I’d be the dregs
Back of class – slangin’ hash
On the bru – still stackin’ cash
The friendliest anti-social loner
With the confidence of a street promoter

I’m a laugh – like Fawlty Towers
A bit better looking than Austin Powers
But I’ve no game – like Donegal Celtic
So I play at home between my pelvic
Like Wacko Jacko - misunderstood
Only I experienced my childhood
It was nice, but shite – a stereotype
Climbed trees, grazed knees and stolen bikes

Verse 2 (Dunbar)
I - don't – want to be a loser but it happens anyway Just like a daily boozing it happens everyday
When I don't stay focused or keep my mind open
Don't think of the future or where my life is goin’
I just sink - HMS depression...
Don't have vocation or life profession
I want to be prophetic but I'm just pathetic
An apathetic youth overdosed & paralytic

But I - calm down - learn to enjoy it
Never going to find myself in full-time employment
So I do what I can but keep making more mistakes
The aches and the breaks let me know what is at stake It makes me contemplate - flying straight
Hope I’m not passed - my sell by date from
From living life on a whim
I learned to drown before I learned to swim
Maybe someday I'll figure out how to win

Verse 3 Fuck with me you’re welcome to - do it If I said I was hard – I couldn’t prove it I capture fun – I’m a bastard son When it comes to sex - I’ve never won I work well hard - for fuck all pay A well liked rapper that can’t get laid A standup comic with the twat pack When I chat up girls - I get laughed at But still I try and wonder why Fifteen year olds have a better sex life Than Bee - that’s the truth I had a wasted youth Supervisors in work are younger than me I’ve 6 A-levels – no degree I’m 25 with university offers
My ma still buys my boxers
Track Name: A Belfast Tea Party
Chorus
Trouble...
Shankill to the Falls
In Belfast City
Violent and pretty

Verse 1
Sectarian slogans – scrawled on our walls
Graffitied areas – like Shankill and Falls
Youths write things they don’t understand
Don’t realize hate won’t make ‘em a man
Brainless – half cut – kids slabberin’
Across the Watts at Protestants
“Pastie Supper – Pastie Supper”
Riotous taunts from unaware fuckers

Head to a riot for a bit of craic
Bouncing out of cars with baseball bats
Getting’ lifted all cuz of stupid shit
(Where’s the love?) Yous wee shits need hit from Cupid’s tip
Getting blocked – shouting – at the top of your lungs
“We don’t like yis orange cunts”
Murals on the wall that say “Irish Out”
It’s ironic – cuz we’re in Ireland now

Fuck you with your sectarian slurs
When you intimidate by paintin’ curbs
On the Shankill – I don’t feel safe
Sure prods feel the same on Falls estates
We avoid areas – cuz of our religion
That right there’s ironic – isn’t it?

Verse 2
I meet this girl first day on the job
She’s looking to know whether teig or prod
Beating round the subject like a paramilitary
A bit slow on it like the P&O ferry
“What team you support? Where you from?”
Uhhh… Celtic and Ireland
But I don’t follow football - fuck the team
“Are you red, white and blue? Or orange, white and green?”

Who cares my views differ from you
I probably kick with the wrong foot too
I’m a teig – but not like Barbara De Brun
If you’re a fucking snout I’d still like you
I feel welcome with green, white and orange
Red, white and blue makes me feel foreign
When I hear a march – I feel abhorrent
Like Wolf Tones playing the Antrim Forum

Verse 3
Went for a swim in the Shankill baths
The area’s dodgy – but the waves are class
Met locals – and shared some fags
It was sweet as til I heard ‘em say
“Aye – smoke a butt – fire it this way
I wouldn’t leave that to a fucking teig”
I was all fuck you mate – under my breath
And agreed cuz I said my name was Jeff

No more flags – colours – paintings of guns
No kill all teigs – no kill all huns
No sectarian tunes – no hatred murals
But I’m not for a PC world

Talking to a guy bout a girl he just met
“Dark hair – slim – with cracker breasts”
Something all to common shot out his mouth
“Aye she’s sweet – but she’s still a snout”

Violence bread – from when you’re a kid
Words from foul mouths warp your opinion
Don’t raise kids with the hate you exhibit
Don’t mould with the mental tattoo of a bigot
Track Name: Another One About Myself
Verse 1
Bee Mick See is a spide – a punk
A yank - a cunt – a rapping bum
Irish, yeo – sometimes drunk
American, wha? – like a handgun
Accent’s fucked like Lars Ulrich
Raping the scene like – like Starbucks
He is Airwaves – not bubblegum
A shmuck – uncle – and all of the above

Bee Mick See – is shy- a guy
A gent – awry – with scalp so dry
Intelligent – aye – sometimes high
A tad bit slow – like The Green Mile
Thrift shop style – a grown up child
A pussy with – that salsa mild
Chill like heroin – Oscar Wilde
Living life with an awesome smile

Chorus
Now that it’s said ‘n’ done
I’ll pen another one
Cuz this has gone past having fun
It’s what I’ve become
I have starved without a crumb
And that’s cuz I’m a stubborn bum
I was shy when I begun
But now my ego’s won

Verse 2
Aww here I’m white – unfed – half bred
With a couple of holes in my head
For eatin’, breathin’, smellin’, seein’
Sleepin’ – with open Venetians
I ain’t blind – I don’t sign
I come through with an open mind
I hear clearly – nearly
Got great taste buds I hold dearly

I eat minge – after it’s singed
Pour my heart out before the binge
I’m one to cringe
My skin pale with pink it’s tinged
Ambitions – of being Osiris
Dodging the bullets of gingivitis
I loved ’08 – not in the slightest
Two deaths and a dose of laryngitis

Bridge
I’m fragile – like battery eggs
Act a starvo while getting’ fed
Hit the gym – then hit the veg
A skinny shit with well-toned legs
Working out does nout for me
Five eleven (5’11”) – weigh one thirty (130lbs)
Come gis a hug You’ll feel the bones I’m speaking of

You fat cunts stop complainin’
I gained three pounds from sic months trainin’
I worked hard with little to show
You gained weight sitting on your hole
You wallow in pity – counting points
I give it a go – wrecking my joints
I’m content – as a twig
You should be too eating like a pig

Verse 3
Verse 3 Half Belfast – half septic tank
Fucking up speech with Chris Eubank
I’m going on the yank
My head’s thinner than a – plank
When I’m Castaway like – Tom Hanks
I grab my wab for a Hillary Swank
When I get praise my mind goes black
“Bee – I love you” – Thanks

Good with funds – I make
Jews jealous I’m opening up like golf umbrellas
I’m under zealous
Watching my back like Monica Seles
I’m sick – like the tip of my dick
After a lick from a beautiful chick
Or an uggo – I could get it up for a chubbo
I may seem daft but smart like Columbo