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Twice a week, London's rhythm enthusiasts of all ages put on
Their zoot suits and go to town. It's good fun and good exercise
Rhythm is the only stimulus as drinks are strictly non-alcoholic
Shit gets depressing man, it's just impressive
To the point I gotta laugh about it, I'm not even stressing
Front tooth missing and I can hear it whistling when I'm spitting
Caught a couple compliments but I weren't fishing
Maybe caught a couple jabs that were slightly vicious
Some of that was maybe justified, the rest was quite malicious
When them people speak, I don't try to notice
Say my brain's gone, well that's wrong, it's only lightly toasted
I should host a game show for lame folks to win shit
Shouts to Karl Pilkington, with him I share a kinship
'Cause everything's shit, at least it's all overrated
So the greats stick out like my shoulder blades
Eyes slowly glaze over, I'm tryna remain sober
Took a THC cap, washed it down with grape soda
But when an idiot speaks, I don't try to notice
Say my brain's gone, well that's wrong, it's only lightly toasted
Next on board, ladies and gentlemen, Snakebite