There's one
not slanging bruv
then shoving a shank
into the so called bruv
there's one
not flinging it about
looking for the next pork
to dig into and dollop the sauce
there's one
not your hommie
at your majesty pleasure
counting down the days
to get out onlt to return again
there's one
that has no place
to know his place
cause you put him there
till he's needed at your beck
there's one
outta your league
knows more than you
put you in your shades
walks the walk and talk the talk
there's one
that's put you to shame
and shown your underbellies
the rotted decay you grandly
white-wash as you spill tar for tarmac
there's one
that's got under yer skin
put eggs on your faces
made you made as lucifers hell
driven you into satan's embrace for help
there's that one
that's eaten into your heads
haunts your dreams in daylight
invoke your hating minds and hearts
and laughs at the fallen playing the living