I've got a funny feeling in my stomach
But that don't matter because me and you are always into something
Whether it be riding, walking home drenched in the freezing cold
Or entering town where the postboxes now say sold
Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop I won't stop it
Hand me your car keys I'll try unlock it
Sitting on the backseat of that worn out interior
Blatantly looked down on by all our superiors
Ed Hardy jeans with broken dreams stitched in between the seams
And that boy in a bivvy looks about 13 trying to sell sticks claimed to be weed
Laugh right out loud for you and your wannabe crew
In your body warmer Nike bad attitude
I'm not being rude but you've already got babies with two different ladies
How do you want to be viewed?
And while you're out getting screwed stewed tattooed
She's on her own tryna get your baby some food
Ed Hardy jeans with broken dreams stitched in between the seams
Rat boy in a bivvy looks about 13 trying to sell sticks claimed to be weed
They live in sportswear but they never go running
Staying in always bunning
Watching porn brain numbing
Lack of motherly loving from a young age as they can clearly say
They've never got nothing from anyone
Clichè
I'm sitting on my curb while my mate's rolling a fag
Ed Hardy jeans with broken dreams stitched in between the seams
Rat boy in a bivvy looks about 13 trying to sell sticks claimed to be weed
Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.