1. |
We Are
02:51
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We are the JFK convertible
Remnants of the Berlin Wall, Iron Curtain call
Partisans who's hanging Mussolini vertical
Antifascist business never personal
The ones who said to purge em all
We are the incontrovertible historical analysis
The disappointment of these subcultural anarchists
The homegrown cannabis, Sauron-type antagonists
We are paintings of red army soldiers storming Winter Palaces
Where the Volga Boatmen meet the vulgar roadmen
We are every communist that's murdered by a soc-dem
We are every anarchist that's held up in a state-pen
Charlie is a he/him, Bobbi is a they/them
Prolly wanna date them, who is gonna blame them
Lovable and fuckable, that's impeccable taste then
We are what'll happen when you listen to the wastemen
We are the detached brainstem
We are, we are, we are, we are
We are the Gastly, we are the Haunter
We are the intergenerational trauma
We are the water, the ice in the sauna
We are industrial, we are the...
We're the bullet Ronald Reagan took,
and just like Nas we Made Em Look
We be all these impatient looks
from how long all these payments took
We are the loafer, the crust and the breadcrumb
We are the entire autism spectrum
We be the snare-drum, the frets and the plectrum,
We be the Red-Light, the Red Stripe, the Redrum
The '91 Soviet Referendum
So they had to find another way to end em
We're toxic-positivity and helpful-negativity,
And molotiving this city with dreadful inefficiency
What coppers always said to me was if they get respect from me
I'll get it back, I guess I'm lacking any piggy empathy
Ghosting me, you're dead to me
A poltergeist with weaponry
We are the unmarked cemetery
Where paupers, proles and peasants be
We be the hegemony
Pavlov's House 2, the energy is double jeopardy
We are, we are, we are, we are
We are the Gastly, we are the Haunter
We are the intergenerational trauma
We are the water, the ice in the sauna
We are industrial, we are the fauna
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2. |
Love Comrades, Hate Cops
04:26
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Pavlov's House not a vacant home
Where the pagans roam like it's Ancient Rome
That cop found under paving stones
Bringing bacon home with the spade I own
Throwing a stick and I break that drone
Romanov kids in the basement thrown
Pavlov's House not a payment owed
Landlords found with the gravest tones
Oh no, move like we Vietnamese peasantry
Move like Big Daddy Kane, Ain't No Half-Stepping me
Racking like Rakim when rapping My Melody
A to the Z with some anarchist zealotry
AZ and Nas with that "Life's A Bitch" energy
Jay-Z and Kanye best Watch that Throne steadily
'Lets Get Free' dead prez, a Jehst or a Chester P
Said it like Ghetts that you're just fucking Dead To Me
Havoc and Prodigy
Passing you Pa Salieu passion thru poverty
Passing thru passageways protesting policy
No pacifist, bout to pelt a pig properly
Avon and Somerset
Molotov aiming it's bacon you're gonna get
Hotdogs are making that stain on your summer-dress
Coppers and rozzers are aiming that gun again
Tasers that stun again
Racist disgraces can't place it one of em
Blatantly all of em, Satan applauding em
Flames are awaiting that's bacon from all of em
Never be calling em, just call em a pig and call em a cab
1312, we call it ACAB
What did he do, he called me a fag🤷‍♀️
We love the comrades, we hate the cops
Sus when announcing you're not no five-0
Krusties are klowning but Bob's no sideshow
I spy a spycop with my little eye tho
CIA psy-op CID-size tho
See I ain't like what he might describe tho
Me I stay tight-lipped, seeing he writes notes
Striked blows and claimed a medallion
Bristol cops are Nazis - Avon Battalion
Bacon is crackling, sound of the beast
Sound of "officer down!" in the streets
Down that chopper and ground the police
All copaganda, doubt the police
All gotta stand up, out of their reach,
No war but the class war, down with the peace
Go for their glassjaw, tear up their passport
Shoved in the backdoor, round up police
Ice Cube, NWA shit
Fight screws then put em away quick
Might move them jake in a snakepit
Chained to their bracelets, caged in their hatred
Obey what's dictated and want more war,
For the face of the state is the force on the poor
More raw pork wanna forward you to court
You're more sport for the bourgeois-sort
Want more support for the comrades daily
Ask Joe Budden that contract Shady
Castro button-up, gone that wavy
Makhno coming up, Kronstadt navy
And no shutting up, boss can't make me
Fuck you pay me, fuck you pay me!
... I'm just too lazy
Staring Gagarin my eyes too spacy
We love the comrades we hate the cops
They designed life in a way to degrade us
Full weight of the state is against us
Thule pagans are aiming to cage us
All patron this nation of bacon,
News-stations still blame immigration,
That's bait, racist intimidation
We need decolonisation
We see coppers try occupy pavements
Statement: 'woop woop', KRS One'd it
Make em "wa-womp" play a sad trumpet
Unfit pundits cover-up and submit
A pig puff-piece to the unsuspecting public
Publish their porky-pies, better get organised
Better yet better get neighborhoods fortified
Pigs were last happy back in 1945
Before the Nazis, Gestapo and Fuhrer died
We come like Italy's Red Brigade
You're overrated like Eminem 'Renegade'
Life gave us lemons ain't making no lemonade
We're tryna make back the state that what Lenin made
CCCPing em, beemers we keying em
USSR I use SSRIs
Shooting the SS and far-right western apartheid
Comrades celebrate and come party late
At Pavlov's House, One-Party State
My beat-tape was Charlie-made
You don't relate, no Charlemagne
Gammon pastrami or ham n salami
Just smug little fucks like some Aaron Bastani
And I'll twat this pussy cunt acting a fanny
This dickheaded bellend got cocked with the strappy, ya prick
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3. |
Quit Your Job
04:05
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We're getting sick of jobs making us sick and then making us pick between money and life
We're meant to stick with the job that we pick then we're bossed by a prick that is running our life
Maybe we'll kick off and tell em all piss off and then tell the dickhead to run for their life
Best be a quitter no-one likes a sticker so just pull the trigger and run your own life
Missing the days, missing the summer
Missing them rays, this is a bummer
Sit in the dock of the bay, while you're snogging your bae, and you've gotten away from the clutter
Stomach-a-flutter you dumb motherfucker, you could have those palm-trees ablaze like you're Usher
Let it burn, let it burn, let it burn, let it burn
We shouldn't be heading to work but we never learn
Sick of the chores, sick of the stresses
Wanna see more summery dresses
All this class war, it just depresses
Wanna be more out on the edges
Wanna be down at the St Paul's Carni
Wanna chow down on some picnic sarnies
Wanna take shrooms at your friend's houseparty
Rum, ket, coke with a little Bacardi
Long weekenders, plan more benders
Not quite right like my passport gender
Shades and shorts on, legs on show
Quit your job and get to know
Tell your boss just where to go,
Booze 2 for 1 at Tesco tho
End-times getting very close
Sun and heavy-snow
Quit your job and love your friends
Not much time left to spend with them
The money you leant well I already spent I'm behind on the rent and it's spinning me out
Already sent but it's such an expense and it doesn't relent from its grip on me now
Sorry to vent this aggression is pent and I haven't a tent if they're kicking me out
Landlords torment but in any event that's the reason godsent why we listen to Mao
Bring em to a Struggle Session
Reading groups and troubled lessons
Riding on that double-decker
Finding out your cuddle-pressure
Another summer romance in the presence of sunny weather
Whatever happens at work today won't even be remembered
Why don't you quit, why don't you go?
Why give a shit, what do you know?
What do you do, why do you try?
What does it prove, what if you die?
Who'd give a fuck, why would they care?
Who you to them? Nothing but air
Where is their love, when will it show?
Why don't you leave, why won't you go?
Why not say piss off and tell em to die
Tell em you quit and you're gonna get high
Tell em to stick all that shit that they give cos their business's vision is running you dry
Take a break, not Kitkat time
Break that corporate diktat time
Awaiting signs you should resign
And sign on instead? This that sign
Quit your job and love your friends
Not much time left to spend with them
P45 and a crate of cider
Be on the skive with your vaporiser
Boss's report what a plagiariser
Mao said they're just Paper Tigers
Down another Jagermeister
I can be your main advisor
Honestly if you just quit I bet you'll be a famous writer
Light that spliff, write that film
Life is quick, time is filled
Life is shit, time don't heal
Likely this time off will
Not make a little bit of difference to the shitty way I feel
So we pop pills and ketamine get questioning if life is real
What if it's not, what if it's fake
What if we waste all of our days
What if we die, crossing the road
What if we fry, or just explode
What are we telling ourselves in those precious few moments of consciousness before we die
Was it all worth it and what did I worship or was I just working on keeping alive
Who did you love, who did you help
After you're snuffed, will it be felt
Will you be sad, regretting your life
Or will you just smile and let out a sigh
Hold on tight this ride is rough
The whole wide world is likely fucked
So quit your job, don't give a toss, go kick your boss right in the gut
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4. |
||||
Dripped-out working class fashionistas
Or we got the balaclava on, Zapatistas
Maduro and Castro, the tracksuit Adidas
Beret on top whether Panthers, Chavistas
Sportswear, all sick fitteds
Or they're full-kit with it
The purse on display is a Burberry fake
But we can't make-up in this Urban Decay
Now we're vagabonding in our goddamn trackie bottoms
Gotten blackened eyes from having all these backhand sovereigns
Designer brands knocked-off, croptops chopped-off
All the stolen clothes we got from a Topshop
Posh sods posture in beanies & Northies
Been seen in your gilet, meaning you're horsey
We're fake Ray-Bans, skate-brands on a caveman
You couldn't hold this down like a spaceman
Dripped-out working class fashionistas
Or we got the balaclava on, Zapatistas
Supreme Soviet
Maduro and Castro, the tracksuit Adidas
Beret on top whether Panthers, Chavistas
Supreme Soviet
New clothes when the rent paid, nylon or hemp-made
Femboys dressed as a Frenchmaid, red-laced
Knitting needle measuring the next gauge, thread frayed
Where the best-laid hems of mice and men stay
Some looking Wednesday, Fester or Lurch
Some kept their Sunday-best for the church
Or dressed in a shirt for the court-date only
No Blackshirts fuck an Oswald Moseley
... Proles stay in the dole queue
Gold-chain and a gold tooth
Cold shades and the gold hoops
Fresh creps, colgate on your old shoes
Best-dressed, bold taste when I roll thru
Yes yes, Salt Bae with the soul food
Get dressed, whole day where you scroll, nude
Old-age is a whole mood
Dripped-out working class fashionistas
Or we got the balaclava on, Zapatistas
Supreme Soviet
Maduro and Castro, the tracksuit Adidas
Beret on top whether Panthers, Chavistas
Supreme Soviet
Tiger-stripe print or you maybe think bumblebees
Summerbreeze, stay distinct, baby-pink dungarees
Son of a Plumber, we've Dusty Rhodes polkadots
Come with a Stunner, we must be Stone Cold a lot
What do the colours be, white with the gold or not
Is the dress black and blue fuck it just fold the lot
...do not Converse aloud with ya Kickers
Popped out for a milk in my gown and my slippers
You looking Ukipper, new Hitler Youth nippers
Move with the gluesniffers, bootlickers
All on display, who need a new zipper, you kidder
Grew thicker, stupider, you skinheads use clippers
I'm sharp as a Razor Ramon toothpicker
Slick Rick with it but I move slicker, new vigor
Too bitter we're pretty and use glitter
Mascara in your rearview mirror
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5. |
Prole Deep
03:33
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Pavlov's House got the vodka, not jelly shots
You know Bobbi make that potbelly hot
You're gonna break like that Rocksteady drop
In that guillotine Trap Queens, not Fetty Wap
Marie Antoinette, gonna eat cake for Pete's sake
Basket of aristocrat heads, a keepsake
French Revolution, the sequel and remake
Knowing me and my people are cheapskates
Yours now found ground-pounded and housebound
Pavlov's House come from all-round, surround sound
Anarchists frown at the hammer and the sickle tatt
Said in this town and we ran em outta brizzle fast
Legend in this city with it, never sitting pretty with it
Revolution'ry Executive Committee with it
Innit, rapping that Leningrad
Stalingrad repping that
Move, move
We're gonna prole deep
Specs like Salvador Allende
Sexlife, Ariana Grande
Next life, which circle of Dante
Egg-white, whipping up an entrée
I'm Subcomandante Marcos in battle
Carlos the Jackal, part of the rabble, carbomb'll rattle
...the whole barrio knows
That we're working class heroes, Super Mario Bros
Not no go-kart pedalling no-mark, go FARC rebel him
Loanshark, known-Narc peddling
Mmmmm, tell me about him
The Party's in touch and the Chairman denounced him
Ooooo, I be a worker
But still shotting drawers to these IKEA workers
There might be a murder
Stalinist and anarchist, unlikeliest merger
Move, move
We're gonna prole deep
I'm Rancid, Out Come The Wolves
Ya man in't down with the cause
Comrades get downing your tools
Flouncing their rules, now Run the Jewels
Killer Mike daily ft. Rage
Ghetts more Giggs then a feature from Dave
Let's resched' cos my dealer delayed
Mate, I could Ether a Jay
We still beef, Lady Leshurr and Paige
Maybe Yeezy and Drake, Eazy and Dre
"Et tu Brute" like what Caesar will say
In that scene in the play where they leave him betrayed
And he's feeling the blade, leaders will pay
If they lead em astray, leave em afraid
Soon replaced to Theresa's disMay
Reap what you sow in that wheat where you played
Move, move
We're gonna prole deep
Weasels and rats wanna parrot to the pigs
Even some cats crow murder for a bid
We wolfdown ravenous, you're clownfish outfoxed
No need to badger him for beats, Charlie not a Sloth
Pavlov's House, fake friends dropped out
Stalin with the Photoshop out now they're cropped out
Blocked and forgot bout, what now
Whole new account for the Bobbs' clout
Now what does it look like, I gotten em shook like
They're Vanilla Ice and I'm some communist Suge Knight
So hop on your pushbike, this here fixed gear?
Still do the hipster beard, vintage beer THIS year?
Time that you kick it, like Tribe's older lyrics
Advisory with it like library visits
Still just some bi who's non-binary with it
Still act as slick as refineries innit
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6. |
BRUTALISM ft. Monody
03:30
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Bricks and mortar
Cement and water
(Brutalism, brutalism, brutalism, brutalism...)
Hoping they'll stop these rent increases
Throw me a block then check this thesis
Soviet Blocs not Tetris pieces
We reside in the cracks and the creases
Factory floors, them felled powerlines
High-rise flats, them Grenfell Tower skies
Find their manor and then they'll cower like
Paranoid, schadenfreude, chemtrail shower-types
We reside in the prison wall
We reside in the city hall
We saw rioters lob these bricks
We saw fire and concrete-mix
Climate apocalypse, floodlit pitch
Climbing on top of this London Bridge
In dungeons sit or the debtor jail, ne'er-do-well
Dimly-lit stairwell with the metal rail
Castle medieval, built that Cathedral
We built pyramids tetrahedral
Textile workshops, thread the needle
Almshouse, workhouse, desperate people
Rundown traphouse, extralegal
Fascist hideout, nesting eagle
At that outhouse next to fecal
They prepare for the next upheaval
Brutalism
Bricks and mortar
Cement and water
(Brutalism, brutalism, brutalism, brutalism...)
We be construction
Means of production
We seen corruption
Eager consumption
Straight from the village hut
On to the little town
We built the city up
We'll burn the city down
(Brutalism, brutalism, brutalism, brutalism...)
Bricks and mortar
Cement and water
We saw your summerhouse, we saw slumlords
Up in the Upper House, it's all above-board
Much more than just strictest orders
War-torn financial district borders
Lived in squares and we lived in corners
We reside in the bricks and mortar
Stolen wealth in the business quarters
Gold is held that has witnessed torture
Colston fell to the Bristol water
Cold and pale like the pits of paupers
Villagers locked in stocks
Rivers and locks and docks
Industry's Loch Ness Mons'
... Cryptozoology with no apology
Columns that venerate slave-trade atrocity
Building a gate on their property,
British State's greatest monopoly
Rot at the edifice, rotten and derelict
Rioters used to pour lead on your terraces
1830s in Queens Square was the genesis
Bristol once more on the edge of the precipice
... stabbed in a carpark that's brutalist
Rushed in a council flat, brutalist
Chucked off the top of your office block, brutalist
Tag 'FTP' on the copshop, that's brutalist
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7. |
Anarchist Black Flag
03:38
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Anarchist Black Flag, grab that
Makhnovist gat at the back of the hatchback
Makhnovist gat, that's that Mosin-Nagant
Balaclava-clad comrades are robbing a bank
United the City like Mancs
Fighting it gritty with shanks
Bourgeois beheaded em
Or start to getting em
Petrol-bombed, four-star unleaded em
Black Bloc swarming
Sat on the top with a matchbox warning
That molotov got that cop warming
Wanna help me? Bobbi QELD be Tommy Shelby
I'm Cillian Murphy, unite comrades like Nicholas Fury
You're lost, sad and guillotine-worthy
Molotov that guy's sportscar up
Bobbi got baptised in bourgeois blood
Robespierre, pulled like a nosehair
No fair, call for your au pair
Anarchist Black Flag, grab that
Makhnovist gat at the back of the hatchback
...Black Bloc basics
That cop there, well that cop's racist
"That's not fair, that cop needs wages"
Man don't care, that lot need macing
Told cop stop but what's gonn' make him?
Nonstop talk in your co-op not changing
Squad got framed not a Bob Ross painting
Whole network dead when your squat got raided
Nah fuck your anarchist commune
More talk than all Capital volumes
Gotta jump feds in Halloween costumes
World burning while fascism consumes
So while you're giving every inch, we're guerillas in the mist
And Gorillas in the Monsoon
Cops ridden that squat out of middle-class dropouts,
Your dad got you back to the farmland you grew
Who knew, taking a spot in the family business
Mates you forgot but will stand as a witness
Basic & posh you don't stand with the litmus
Maybe should drop & demand our forgiveness
Rich-kid, dipshit,
Name that we'll cross from the traitorous hitlist
Taking ya hostage we're making a wishlist
Anarchist Black Cross ain't visiting this
And all you fash-lot tasting of pigshit (bothersome)
Soon to abolish em, Durruti Column em
Calling all anarchists, washing the squat off em
Come for the plod like it's Tottenham
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8. |
Give Up
03:30
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Existence, what a practical joke
Texts from friends turning Casper the Ghost
Overly positive pricks patronise like
Let's pretend there's some actual hope
Nah less pretence from your vanity show
Now let's see sense, go and grab me a rope
Overly pessimistic, impressionistic
Went to mend but the crack further broke
Can't even cope, nope, know growth isn't viable
Brain goes slow, that known ol' reliable
Stay so low, and known as maniacal
K-holed tho, but know that I'm liable
Life is all a trip where you can't make the face out
Trying just to grip on reality while spaced-out
Made out the wrong hole, got low and tended a long note
Misgendered as a John Doe
Give up give up I just wanna give up
They tell me that I'm beautiful but I just wanna give up
They tell me I can do it all but I just wanna give up
They tell me that I'm capable but I just wanna give up
You already know your choices are pointless
Joyless, exploited, voiceless and voided
Point it out like your mouth wider than a town-crier
Nothing but piss to a house fire, how dire
Now try a new way, give it a go
Give up the act, give up and tap, give up the ghost
Giving all you got, you pretend that you're lesser
Still tryna centre your friends as your betters
Some only getting involved for a sense of control
Always playing leader never sensible roles
But we already know they're a loser, a user
Gave mutual aid to my abuser
Guess you saw yourself in em
Their apologies you helped written
The prophecy was self-written
Guess we'll never combat the long-sad from that
When pain came straight from a comrade
Give up give up I just wanna give up
They tell me that I'm beautiful but I just wanna give up
They tell me I can do it all but I just wanna give up
They tell me that I'm capable but I just wanna give up
So why still bother, most life's still squalor
Coke-line pill-poppers, those types real scholars
Escaping the pain of the strain on the brain, just
Making your face hang in shame when you wake up
Shake-up your life administration
Fuck their manifestation of manipulation
Acting all brazen I don't trust them
Their attitude change when you won't fuck them
Fuck them!
Here I go up to the bridge again
Here I go look at my wrist again
Given all I got to give again
Listen then shitty friends, this is Ben's bitter-end
Living-end dividend, resting in the riverbend
... Give a fuck
Spirit's just dead and my corpse tryna sick it up
Friends who'd give it up now given up on giving love
Shit is fucked, I'm giving up
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9. |
Nostalgia Lies
03:54
|
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Nostalgia only lies to you and hides the truth
Memories of better days but back then you were crying too, don't buy in to
That tint of rose, you sniffed a whiff that tricked your nose
And now you're missing those who only used to make you piss and moan and wish they'd go
Nostalgia's just a bunch of shit
All these 1960s kids nostalgic for the London Blitz
How dumb it is
It's scuffed knees, gym clothes, your bag of pack lunches
But it just means Jim Crow to MAGA-hat bunches
Nostalgia can be weaponised
Gentrified, leading cause of genocide
Nostalgia got them terrified
Nostalgia got the twitching curtain, in reversion
Forgotten friend or missing person, isn't certain
Nostalgia make you overthink, go to drink, text an ex to go and link
Then depressed and going shrink
Nostalgia's not an exit from the dreaded shit we're shackled to
They just call it retro then they're selling it right back at you
Nostalgia lies, nostalgia lies to ya
Behold the lies, it's no surprise to ya
With Goldeneyes, we're throwing knives thru ya
These Older-times, they're all just like Newer
Nostalgic grown folk are on Pokémon
Reciting lines from Obi-Wan
This the shit they mostly on
Or reminisce when radio would have a fucking Mosley on
Tryna look younger wonder where the fucking goatee gone
Thunderbirds and Turtle days
70s punks with their swastikas not circled-A's,
The fuck is that?
Circulate the purple haze, back in school
Had to pull our cash together just to buy the saddest draw
Nostalgic for the drinking, vomiting and crying
Anxiety inside that keeps on telling you you're dying
Lying what your life was like, you yearn for the past
Never learn from the past
That school disco shit, the Return of the Mack
And Cotton-Eye Joe with a rotten-type flow
But what am I tho?
Skin and regrets, little depressed, living a mess, giving me stress, didn't get dressed, fill in the rest
Fuck it tho, still at my best
Nostalgia lies, nostalgia lies to ya
Behold the lies, it's no surprise to ya
With Goldeneyes, we're throwing knives thru ya
These Older-times, they're all just like Newer
Nostalgia got you desperate, breaking down on everyday
Crying to a song you never rated anyway
Deja vu is coming back anyday
Nostalgia got you wondering what all your old love letters say
You should just let em stay, packed up hands off
Like those old holiday snaps on your laptops
Nostalgic for the Starry Nights, nostalgic for the Van Goghs
Skepta and JME video backdrops
Nostalgic for the plans lost, the hmms and the what-ifs
Nostalgia got you missing all those pricks in the office
Getting thru I said to you, nostalgia be the death of you?
Nostalgic for asbestos, guess what, chest cough every breath or two
Nostalgic for the top-hat n monocle
Chimney sweeps coming back is not that improbable
Nostalgic for the flatcap or snapback canonical
Nostalgic for the days a future was still looking possible
|
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10. |
Weeknight Nightbus
02:41
|
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Riding the weeknight nightbus
Finding it be quite nice, just
Lie in a seat, my eyes shut
Try not to sleep, I might just
Miss my stop
Streetlights off, which one's what
Road so silent, random goths
Market streets look abandoned plots
Copping an ounce on the edge of the city
Somehow it's already twenty to middy
Crisp in the air and a little bit chilly
Ooo, that's not a strong enough jiffy
Don't wanna draw the attention of piggy
Draw in my bag is a little too piffy
Guy on the right keeps on eyeing me shitty
Wanting a fight or he's finding me pretty
You're never finding the pulse of society unless you're regularly riding the bus
First on the Badgerline, Stagecoach to Hammerstein, let's get re-nationalising the bus
Labouring days that we're working right thru
Alienated from work that we do
Finish your nightshift there's rush hour too
How come the next day there's more work to do?
The weeknight nightbus, weeknight nightbus
We don't mind when the week fly by us
Seek that weekend high, no pile-ups
Whole week comedown, now rack lines up
Weeknight nightbus, weeknight nightbus
Foxes ripped that binbag right up
We see blue lights right behind us
Weeknight nightbus
Sit in the station at Lawrence Hill, listening
Miseducation of Lauryn Hill
It's "babyfaces" and "foreign-heels"
Bus companies the proverbial three dollar bill
Upper deck littered with meal-deals and orange peel
Some bore ill-will to the morning chill
Snoring still holding their four inch heels
Dreaming of work, that's a horror film
Some pull out knives and they threaten with glee
Some pull out books they're pretending to read
Some should have got off at least fifteen stops off decided to nod off and they're still asleep
Sirens erupting the desolate streets
Cops seeing red like the decibel peaked
Pedestrians beat and soon resting in peace
The tag on the window says "F The Police!"
|
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11. |
0955 to BRI (skit)
03:19
|
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12. |
||||
[Lee Reed]
Let’s go! Turtle Island to Bristol
Gavrilo flow hit like the pistol
Spits the pinko bricks for the window
Flip the pigs go limbs all Akimbo
Up the tempo dance to the rhythm kid
Kicks n snare hits lift up the militants
Pitchfork pillaging condos n villas
Queen or Camilla, we go guerrilla
Pro-flotilla, broke down the wall dude
Roll with Queer folk vogue down the ballroom
Pump the volume up on resistance
Thunderstruck then fucked up they system
Lift a fist get Bloc’d up in black yo
Packing the Anti-Fascist ammo
Raps that blast a path to Makhno
Attack from shadows, rap commandos
[Hook]
Black Bloc, Red Brigades
Cops say that we're misbehaved
Working class is underpaid
Black Bloc, Red Red
[Bobbi QELD]
We increase in number, discrete as thunder
Decrease their plunder like Patrice Lumumba
Waterboard boardrooms, keeping em under
We flow Tito, flee to the bunker
Chumbawamba Tubthumping, quick get back up again
Undercover motherfuckers, pigs in the muck again
Empire-type cos these Times New Roman
"Comic Sans-culotte"'s my new slogan
Hoping that'll be a spoiler, Narodnaya Volya
Fascists in the dirt, that'll be the Foibe
Capital employed ya, that is your exploiter
Manager and toiler, landlord with your boiler
Radicalest anarchist that ballot-box spoiler
Back and sides cut, that Jacobin coiffeur
Guillotine, lit up these streets like it's Billie Jean
This Machine Kills Fascist philistines
[Lee Reed]
Reed’s at Pavlov’s House with the medicine
Black n Red flag back into bed again
Lift a fist up for kids in the tenements
Bun they system this shit acetylene
Prep the kitchen we eat the rich yo
King a la Reed the recipe distro’d
Let’s go nick the silverware crystal
Flip those soak the sofas in petrol
Presto, echo boom from the street kid
Heat for peeps yelling fuck the polices
No Peace cuz no Justice been reached
There’s no peace til we bust up the precinct
Viva da revolution the movement
Reed don’t spit those bars dude shoots them
Bobbi’s sharp and cut right through shit
Charlie boost that beat just go BOOM!
[Bobbi QELD]
Break their laws, got tried in accordance
Made plans, take my time like a tortoise
Hate-filled men who try to deport us
Breakout pen like tyrannosaurus
Way back when we were 'sick man of Europe'
Taste that, get me a big bag of sawdust
Dipped in your courtyard, Fist of the North Star
Ticked your name for our list of the bourgeois
Wanna start proper art, oligarch body-parts
All of your contacts and bodyguards
Just gonna hang like Benito n that
Gun go Kerrang like you're emo n that
Some pull a blank like Placebo n that
Some pulling rank but we're Vito-ing that
Cops are a gang of chorizo n that
Where's the pigs in a blanket sleepover at
Maybe these anarchist rappers are hazardous
Taking you back, Assassin in an Animus
'Grafdabusup' now we're Chester P Hackenbush
Class War Veteran with the emptiest rationbook
Molotov recipe
'By Any Means', that's a commie necessity
Stop White Supremacy
Sheriff n deputy, Aryan pedigree
Rather be dead than a red? Then you better be
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13. |
Demonology ft. Monody
04:12
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[Monody]
Wait, what did I just say
No more playing these games
of bathing in hypocrisy
Demonology
is taking over me
and it pulls me deeper every time
I'm caught in your grip
Thinking I should just quit
And dip
Outta this life
To another time
To when my thoughts were mine
But I'm back to you every time
[Hook]
The one and only sweet one who knows me
Demons are eating me slowly
[Bobbi QELD]
Manic Pixie Nightmare Enby, only here just for your story
Surely would inform me still you let me wait in purgatory
Broke me down until the blame was sorely placed before me
Made it surely every memory now tainted for me, hate this for me
Maybe yours be now agreeing with what all our friends were seeing
Still just be a thing to them & not a real human being
Autistic and a gimmick, and they didn't
Gimme any care or water when I wasn't with it and my head was spinning
Hated me for crying, what the fuck I'm sposed to do?
Abused by two so I could just be close to you
Not over you
Still notice you on every single insta view, you know I do
Eventually, respectfully
...fuck it I'll get over you
Moving onto greener pastures, not this putrid sea of bastards
You can see it's fractured from the first day being manufactured
See I'm bruised and battered, gaslit and abandoned
Now we stand on either side of canyon
Phantom love In Memorandum
My consciousness was comatose & still they watched me overdose
I broke with hope now so morose, not home alone but hosting ghosts
Reversing down these Roman Roads of frozen snow but never scared
Quickly fleeing those who've only shown they never cared
Watching em moving on
I'm sat in my room a lot with the computer on
Editing videos, writing a newer song
Talking some shit like I'm part of the Q-Anon
Likely you'll look at me like I be too far gone
Forcing my head on my shoulders to screw it on
Already dead
All of my fault, already said
All of my faults, called out instead
All of my thoughts, crawled out and bled
They pulled at the thread
All that they saw was 'Dawn of the Dead'
All that I fought, causing me dread
All just the cause of this bullshit I'm fed
All gives me pause when I crawl into bed
With a sleep paralysis demon's claws on my head
Hoping he'll choke me
Knee to the neck with an ushigoroshi
Meet with respect cos he keep me from lonely
He never left and he's keeping me homely
The one and only, sweet one who know me
Demons are eating each piece of me slowly
'VVitch' 'Drag Me To Hell'
'The Omen' 'It Follows' 'Saw' 'Amityville'
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14. |
Sunrise (Phoenix)
03:13
|
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When misery visits me
Hitting me physically
I roll with the punch
That's the strength that its given me
Neurodiversity, victim of industry
Bosses kept kicking me, fire me, P45ing me, dissing me
Quit NHS and I went university
Now I'm a Master that's not no hyperbole
Got me an MA not Young when I did it
They'll 'Go To Sleep', CM Punk with your lyrics
I'll never stop, Terry Funk when I spit it,
and I can't run out of bars, 'Munk when I Chip it
Inspired to write what the hurt n pain give it
Nevermind Lithium, Kurt Cobain with it
We rise up like phoenix do
We fly high, Rey Fenix moves
Sometimes dark but seen it thru
Sunrise on that scenic view
Turns out it's what my creativity seeks
I wrote this whole album in three fucking weeks
Those brief times of happiness giving me writers block
Still haven't uninstalled twitter, I type a lot
Projecting that doom to your cortex, not using no forceps
That withdrawal of sertraline, boom goes the forehead
And soon saw the scenes from the news on your doorstep
That noose around your neck is loose if you forget
...So get off the chair and get in the streets
...The whole proletariat's on our knees
...We're learning to square with all our defeats
Yearning to share and get on our feet
Burning the square and scaring police
We rise up like phoenix do
We fly high, Rey Fenix moves
Sometimes dark but seen it thru
Sunrise on that scenic view
Time's what I needed to rise like the phoenix
If time's not on my side then am I defeated
Not got the time for this slimy, conceited n
Slightly elitist scum slyface that greeted em
...deep-seated abuse from em
Put it to sleep like anaesthetists do to em
Fairweather friends seems I keep on eluding em
They're never there when I'm needing a few of em
This path I'm on isn't including em
This vagabond isn't of use to em
In Pavlov's House there's only two of em
We call it Al-Quds not Jerusalem
That's how the future come, free of oppression, depression, succession of right-wing aggression
The revolution obsession no question won't lessen progression with bourgeois concession
(the lesson)
We rise up like phoenix do
We fly high, Rey Fenix moves
Sometimes dark but seen it thru
Sunrise on that scenic view
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15. |
Steel (Still QELD)
03:25
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Old fans like "Bobbi, think they're a real tankie"
You've gotten that wrong cos I'm more Bill Shankley
But wanna still thank me for We Can Go and ACAB
Still the best anarchist rap getting playback
Still the rap Commissar hitting oligarchs
Bonepart on top of yah Cliftonite promenades
Isn't like 'La-Di-Da', Slick Rick with it tho
Bobbi still got that big-dicked brizzle flow
Is it tho? Innit bro
You used to zoom Bobbi Q in the video
Do what you do who am I to judge really tho
Moving more luchadore, Rey Marxterio
Pavlov's House, Knockdown Dolls, and the Q-E-L-D
Slapping this Abramovich and found em blue as Chelsea
Messing with the proles, you're a Thatcherite calamity
We wrestle for control, like the Anoa'i family
Representing workers all across the world (QELD!)
Letting the red n black flag unfurl (QELD!)
Whether it's Charlie or Jenre Beats
We're still not lovin' police! The Q E L D
Like Cypress Hill, throw their sets in the air
At the crime-scene saw them Fresh Prints of Blair
If we were the pigs we would question him bare
Cos how would that be unless you were there?
But we're no police cos we got souls
Like MF DOOM check the sockhole
Baader-Meinhof and the syndrome is Stockholm
No bloodhounds in the foxhole
Unemployed Eric B, 'You Know I Got Dole'
'Paid In Full' while I played on a console
Clearly they think that I'll sink like a washbowl
Tryna smear me like a bogroll
They need reminding what guillotines look like
They never knew what the guillotine feels like
They never felt what the guillotine steel's like
We wanna know what the upper-class squeals like
Your middle-class friends don't struggle like you do
They never knew real trouble like you do
That's why they live in a bubble-type group, who
Only speak of themselves, coming like Groot do
Mutual aid that was all one-sided
All that love that was unrequited
And all of your truths that you trusted, confided
Became all the brooms that they brushed you aside with
Self-important, self-obsessed, self-centred
They felt threatened when the Bobbi QELD entered
They'll only help when they want you indentured
They're treating your friendship just like another business venture
Misremembered basic facts to centre their control n that
They should go reflect on how come all they do is hold us back
You should fucking piss off, not the only one who told em that
Self-appointed leaders too fucked up to take the role of that
So we don't listen to em anymore, anymore
On our guard cos there's always plenty more
But we're not gonna let in any more, any more
They're all rotten to their very core, we're what they're not ready for
Reckon your ears burn when you're hearing this
If you think this verse is about you it clearly is
Timid, insecure while I tell it how it really is
Now you're gonna learn about beefing with a lyricist
Cos you ain't got the means to answer this, fake-ass anarchist
Claim non-hierarchical when you're the face of all of this
Appalled at how you pulled the strings of everyone you're hanging with
Appalled your planning revolves around banging newer activists
...Just SWP shit
Come get fucking with me quick
NJPW knee-lifts
Q E L D ain't nothin' to chief with
They need reminding what guillotines look like
They never knew what the guillotine feels like
They never felt what the guillotine steel's like
We wanna know what the upper-class squeals like
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16. |
Lost Count
03:24
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Lost count of the friends made
Lost count of the ounces of peng grade
Lost count of the faint-praise, amount of complaints raised
Lost count of mistakes made
Lost count of the days, lost count of the years
Can't count on a mate who is yet to appear
Lost count of the gear, lost count of the tears
Lost count of the periods that love disappeared
Lost count of the times I restarted over
Lost count of the times I was owed with closure
Lost count of the roads, lost count of the shows done
Lost count of stoners who rolled us a smoke up
Lost count of the beds laid,
Lost count of the debts made
Lost count of the rent paid, of the doubts that my friends gave
Lost count of the hopes and the "next day"s
Lost count of the good lost count of the bad
Lost count of the happy lost count of the sad
Lost count of the money that I spent on a bag
Pavlov's House lost count of the fash
Lost count of the times locked out of the flat
Lost count of the times knocked down on my ass
Lost count of the raps and the bars that I've not dropped
Lost count of the journeys I hopped-off
Lost count of my feelings and whatnot
Lost count of the times when the cops stopped,
Lost count of interviews given where I'm fobbed-off,
Lost count of jobs that I've not got
Lost count of the fairweather fake breres who wear pleather
Make out they're bare clever, caged you at Their Pleasure
Sitting in a cell still waiting for their letter
Lost count of the ways coulda fared better
Lost count of the travels, the wars and the battles
Plans that unraveled, judgments and gavels
Bury the establishment under the gravel
Lost count of the Prince Andrews and the Saviles
Lost count of the good lost count of the bad
Lost count of the happy lost count of the sad
Lost count of the money that I spent on a bag
Pavlov's House lost count of the fash
Lost count of the rats, that's the Blairs and the Borises
Johnson & Johnson white line nasal blockages
Lost count of the lies and the broken promises
Lost count of how many media accomplices
Lost count of those dangerous cryptids
Lost count of the days we resisted
Lost count of the diptychs, triptychs,
Lost count of the rappers who are only spitting triplets
Lost count of ways that we lost out and then some
Lost count of comrades we call co-defendants
Lost count of cohorts who show no repentance
Solidarity means show co-dependence
And we'll rise up together
Lost count of the days that we made the world better
Ten Days That Shook The World's factory settings
Decades became weeks, ask Vladimir Lenin
Lost count of the good lost count of the bad
Lost count of the happy lost count of the sad
Lost count of the money that I spent on a bag
Pavlov's House lost count of the fash
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Pavlov's House UK
Hip-hop & grime bangers for your squat party & picket line, outta that revolutionary hotbed of Bristol. Nonstop bops for the comrades. Antifascist Luchador bars.
Bobbi QELD: bars, Charlie el Poeta: beats.
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