You Can’t Rap

By Example

On What We Made

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[Chorus]

You can't rap my friend, you're white and you're from Fulham

Please put down the mic, there's no way you can fool them

Don't be stupid, you won't get that far

Turn your back on hip hop, bruv, and go and play guitar


[Verse 1: Example]

Of all the possibilities I ever could've chosen

Supposing career wise, I picked hip hop

Imagine all the tip-top, rappers' bottom lips drop

Sitting there shocked, there's some other bloody shit hot

Dude with a mullet, bussin' shorts wearing flip-flops

Spitting to a gathering, looking like a criss-cross

Of fans loving Prodigy, Kylie, and Slipknot

Nearly could've happened, bruv look at me I shit not

Little Elliot rhymes for the hell of it

If only he was ghetto mans, maybe he would sell a bit

I tried hard to big up the credentials

Even thought about putting gold in my dentals

An Anglo-Saxon with a broken accent

But rappers from Fulham get a strange reaction

I said bye to rap, saw the issue at hand

Some guitar lessons later, formed my own band


[Chorus]

You can't rap my friend, you're white and you're from Fulham

Please put down the mic, there's no way you can fool them

Don't be stupid, you won't get that far

Turn your back on hip hop, bruv, and go and play guitar


[Verse 2: Example]

Attention seeking, how far should a man go?

Cut his ear off like Vincent van Gogh

Dash cash to the crowd so the venue scrambles

Turn my good life into a Babyshambles

Fuck myself up real properly, like Pete Doherty

Cover of Heat, I'm hot property

Everybody's clocking me, I own the crowd

Then I've gotta link me up with a Girls Aloud

Next exchange vows, now my pops is proud

There is a nine on my cloud

I'm as pleased as I ever been, bro

Man's flash like José Mourinho

Women crave me like bottles of Pinot

Now I've got big, I can fight photographers

Bang the obvious, please biographers

Spend currency till there ain't none left

And when I need more I'll fake my own death


[Chorus]

You can't rap my friend, you're white and you're from Fulham

Please put down the mic, there's no way you can fool them

Don't be stupid, you won't get that far

Turn your back on hip hop, bruv, and go and play guitar


[Verse 3: Example]

Right now it's just hit-and-miss, soon I'll taste a bit of bliss

Banging chicks at worst with looks like Jayne Middlemiss

Never doing hideous, it's too bad for business

I'll spin when they grin with skin like Darth Sidious

Never out-riddle this, all chatting gibberish

Verbal diarrhoea, so you're never getting rid of this

Hear your retorts, there's all sorts like liquorice

I can sense your bitterness, you wishing you written this


[Chorus]

You can't rap my friend, you're white and you're from Fulham

Please put down the mic, there's no way you can fool them

Don't be stupid, you won't get that far

Turn your back on hip hop, bruv, and go and play guitar