You Can't Rap (New Version)

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, brah, and go and play guitar

Of all the possibilities I ever coulda chosen

Supposin', career-wise, I picked hip hop

Imagine all the tip top rappers bottom lips drop

Sittin' there shocked that some other bloody shit hot

Dude with a mullet, bustin' shorts, wearin' flip flops

Spittin' to a gatherin', lookin' like a criss-cross

Of fans lovin' Prodigy, Kylie, and Slipknot

Nearly coulda happened, brah, 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 dig 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

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, brah, and go and play guitar

Attention seekin', 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 baby shambles

Fuck myself up real properly, like Pete Doherty

Cover of Heat, I'm hot property

Everybody's clockin' me, I own the crowd

Then I gotta link me up where the girls allowed

Next, exchange vows, now my pops is proud

There's a nine on my cloud, I'm as please as I ever been, bro

Mans flash like Jose Mourinho

Women crave me like bottles of Pinot

Now I've gone big, I can fight photographers

Bang the obvious, please biographers

Spend currency till there ain't none left

And when I need more, I'l fake my own death

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, brah, and go and play guitar

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

Bangin' chicks, at worst with looks like Jayne Middlemiss

Never doin' hideous, it's too bad for business

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

Never out riddle this, all chattin' gibberish

Verbal diarrhea, so you're never gettin' rid of this

Hear your retorts, there's all sorts, like licorice

I can sense your bitterness, you wishin' you written this

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, brah, and go and play guitar