Butter Fly - Lee Scott

I’m Slick like a Johnny Barnes scissor kick

Round ours Robbie’s God and Grobbelaar’s Innocent

Shankly’s sons, early 90's Cassy scum

Taxing CAPRI Sun’s and stashing them at me Mums

A lack of funds, gather crumbs and sink bevies

The kids on the express way bridges that flick pennies

Why even try like?

You’ll get YOUR fucking eye wiped

It’s not a fickle minds life, thinking

Picking at me chicken fried rice

Indifferent, bizzies listen in and think we’re bickering

The kip of them though I’m sick of them

Like a clique of blind mice that wouldn’t notice if I told them

And they lived and died twice

Ignant?

Quite right, the world in which we live in

Is a massive ball of izm and I’m a master of all that isn’t

Caught you slipping, called your WOMEN over

Tripping sober, until I’m rich as shit tipping Hova

Class, like Minnesota Fatts

By the look of their silhouettes I think their holding bats

Not a splab lad take a wholesome drag

Rolling stoned 'til I’m broken bad

Even Obi Wan Kenobi’s blagged

Blah lid, fucking you up for something your Ma did

Just to rhyme it, undermining major up and coming signings

Spitting like the first proletarian that ever rhymed a word

Mostly shit about Mary and the times we shared, on this DYINGearth