[Intro] (Start the Transit up, Gaz) (Is the back door shut?) (Nah, just tie it with a bit of twine, it'll be fine) (Watch out for the council van!) [Verse 1] I’m the master of the midnight haul, the king of the debris Got a Transit van that’s older than the bloody BBC I took Three Hundred Pounds from a posh bird in the lanes To clear out her conservatory and all her daddy’s gains But I ain't going to the tip, that’s Twenty Quid a toss I’d rather dump it in the woods and maximize the boss Got a broken fridge, a microwave, and Seven bags of tile I’ll leave ‘em by the nature reserve, done it in a while (Proper job, mate!) Yeah, I’m an environmentalist, if the environment is trash I’m turning local beauty spots into cold, hard cash [Pre-Chorus] The sign says "No Tipping," but I can’t bloody read I’m sowing all my rubble like a toxic little seed Cover up the number plate with a bit of Devon mud I’m the king of the bypass, I’m the king of the flood [Chorus] Fly-tipping king, yeah, I’m dumping the load Behind the Little Chef on the A-Forty-Nine road Mattresses and masonry, a mountain of the grey I’ll have it out the back and I’ll be miles away I’m the king of the lay-by, the lord of the ditch Making sure the local council stays a proper little bitch (Get the lead out!) [Verse 2] I saw a copper in a Mondeo, I didn't even flinch I’ve got an old settee that’s leaking foam by the inch Found a spot behind the primary school, near the playing field Where the bushes are all overgrown and my sins are all concealed One big shove and the wardrobe’s in the brambles My career’s a work of art, your garden’s in a shambles I’ve got asbestos in a bin bag, tucked beneath a rug I’m a twenty-first century, white-van-driving thug (He’s a legend!) Yeah, I’m a waste management consultant, don’t you know? I just manage to make the waste magically go [Pre-Chorus] The sign says "No Tipping," but I can’t bloody read I’m sowing all my rubble like a toxic little seed Cover up the number plate with a bit of Devon mud I’m the king of the bypass, I’m the king of the flood [Chorus] Fly-tipping king, yeah, I’m dumping the load Behind the Little Chef on the A-Forty-Nine road Mattresses and masonry, a mountain of the grey I’ll have it out the back and I’ll be miles away I’m the king of the lay-by, the lord of the ditch Making sure the local council stays a proper little bitch [Bridge] [Beat Drop] (Check the CCTV) (Nah, that camera's a gimmp, it's been broken since May) (Just drop the tires and let's go) One, Two, Three, Four tires on the grass Watch the local council try and catch my chavvy arse I’m a ghost in the night, I’m a stain on the map I’m the reason your village looks like a pile of scrap! [Verse 3] Tomorrow morning, some jogger’s gonna find a lovely treat A rusted radiator and a toilet without a seat They’ll write a letter to the paper, they’ll moan on Facebook Live While I’m at the pub at midday, feeling quite alive I’ve got another job in Slough, a cellar full of junk I’ll dump it in the canal and watch it till it’s sunk (He’s a pro!) No taxes, no permits, no moral code to follow Just a Transit full of shite and a future that is hollow! [Outro] (Drive, Gaz, drive!) (Did the fridge door hit that badger?) (Who cares, mate, we're Five Hundred Pounds up!) (See ya at the bypass) (Mind the pothole) (The Fly-Tipping King!) (We're gone!) [Fade Out]
