[Verse 1] Estate bin shelter. Kit in a heap. Split skins. Fish tins. Municipal sleep. Hi-hat face-down. Snare in the slop. Kick full of rain with a sock in the port. Ag, shame. What a lekker congregation. Brass little bastards demand representation. “MORE MIX. MORE RIGHTS. NO MORE TSS-TSS ALL FUCKIN’ NIGHT.” Tin-lid sect. Cable-tie chains. Bottle-cap saints with unpronounceable names. Oi. Sign here. Blood? Nah, rust. Closed-hat brethren. Open-hat scum. One bloke clapped on the wrong offbeat— They took his robe. Made him sweep. [Hook] Fake breaks. Kak luck. Bent brass. Still cuts. Ja, bru. No crown. Whole bin shed got a brand-new sound. Fake breaks. Loose teeth. Big chat. Cheap belief. [Verse 2] Kick kept schtum. Proper. Not a thud. Rain down his rim. Feet in the mud. Silent ones came. Sat. Stayed. Milk-crate pews in the wheelie-bin shade. “Deep, that.” “Bru knows.” Kick said fuck-all. The following grows. One brought flowers. One brought debt. One asked a question— Ain’t finished yet. No sermon. No merch. Just a damp round bloke accidentally church. [Verse 3] Snare went road. All snap. No kip. Loose-wire gob and a split-rim lip. Bus-stop scraps. Two quid. Chips. “Big things coming.” Same old bits. Then love. Then rent. Then little ones rattling. School-run mornings. Cutlery battling. Wanted jazz. Wanted grime. Wanted nobody touching his time. “Music’s my life.” “Music can get stuffed.” Same mouth, bru. Same month. [Break] Phở shop window. HELP WANTED. Went in hungry. Apron granted. [Verse 4] Now it’s chop-chop, coriander, steam. No snare solo. No big scene. Tourists sunburnt. Phones held high. “Is this authentic?” He lets that slide. Stock since six. Bills by three. Little brass sect want their lunch for free. “Exposure, my china.” “Cash, you pricks.” Kick at the back. Still sweet fuckin’ niks. Snare wipes broth off his wedding band. Five bowls balanced. Burn on his hand. Knife hits board— That old nasty crack. “Oi, chef. You miss it?” “Two phở. Table at the back.” [Hook] Fake breaks. Kak luck. Bent brass. Still cuts. No encore. Last bowls. Shutters down. Still rolls.
