They Don't Allow Rappers in the Bullingdon Club
๐ต 2136 characters
โฑ๏ธ 2:37 duration
๐ ID: 9003996
๐ Lyrics
Higher education, a suitable term
When I was in my cap and gown little did I learn
Working not my forte, I longed for something naughty
By nature I was haughty, and one thing that school had taught me
Was to make alliances
Within the diocese
Find those who might assist me in getting what I'd need
After weeks of hanging around, awaiting arty types
I chanced upon a blond scruff spouting utter tripe
'Boris DePfeffel' said he, by way of introduction
'Want to join the chaps and I at a private function?'
'Charmed' said I, 'Who are these chums?'
All the toffs round here pretend that they are in the slums
The buller boys said he
In a fuller voice, come see
He put a choice to me
And I couldn't hoist a plea
Against pulling up a seat with the fully fledged elite
So I put a plan to he that his band should include Mr.B
He asked 'What do you do?'
'I'm a Gentleman Rhymer' I proclaimed
'I've heard of you' said he
Then my position was explained
You want to raise hell, be placed well
But here's the rub
They don't allow rappers in the Bullingdon club
I have the relevant qualities to be a buller boy
I am disrespectful to those in my employ
I can smash up a lamp, or slash on a tramp
Take cash for questions when I should be sectioned
Have my CV espoused, by buck house
Use my reading for party leading
I can take a bung, but watch my tongue
Use cricket as a front
For being rather blunt
Take the spoils
Without a day of toil
Even then they won't let me be their foil
Now Boris knew his classics, but was clearly simple
Dave inspired desire, but just to punch him in his dimples
His gait was airy fairy and his fans unsound
And little Georgie never even bought a round
Come to think of it, I didn't want their jobs
And why would Mr.B hang around with such nobs?
You can listen to The Smiths
But that's far from the pith
I'm heading for a snub
And they don't allow rappers in the Bullingdon club
My trouser's are sharp and my tie is neat
But still Mr.B is far too street
And they don't allow rappers in the Bullingdon club
Now it's all gone bad
I'm more than glad
Our leader is a dud
And they don't allow rappers in the Bullingdon club
When I was in my cap and gown little did I learn
Working not my forte, I longed for something naughty
By nature I was haughty, and one thing that school had taught me
Was to make alliances
Within the diocese
Find those who might assist me in getting what I'd need
After weeks of hanging around, awaiting arty types
I chanced upon a blond scruff spouting utter tripe
'Boris DePfeffel' said he, by way of introduction
'Want to join the chaps and I at a private function?'
'Charmed' said I, 'Who are these chums?'
All the toffs round here pretend that they are in the slums
The buller boys said he
In a fuller voice, come see
He put a choice to me
And I couldn't hoist a plea
Against pulling up a seat with the fully fledged elite
So I put a plan to he that his band should include Mr.B
He asked 'What do you do?'
'I'm a Gentleman Rhymer' I proclaimed
'I've heard of you' said he
Then my position was explained
You want to raise hell, be placed well
But here's the rub
They don't allow rappers in the Bullingdon club
I have the relevant qualities to be a buller boy
I am disrespectful to those in my employ
I can smash up a lamp, or slash on a tramp
Take cash for questions when I should be sectioned
Have my CV espoused, by buck house
Use my reading for party leading
I can take a bung, but watch my tongue
Use cricket as a front
For being rather blunt
Take the spoils
Without a day of toil
Even then they won't let me be their foil
Now Boris knew his classics, but was clearly simple
Dave inspired desire, but just to punch him in his dimples
His gait was airy fairy and his fans unsound
And little Georgie never even bought a round
Come to think of it, I didn't want their jobs
And why would Mr.B hang around with such nobs?
You can listen to The Smiths
But that's far from the pith
I'm heading for a snub
And they don't allow rappers in the Bullingdon club
My trouser's are sharp and my tie is neat
But still Mr.B is far too street
And they don't allow rappers in the Bullingdon club
Now it's all gone bad
I'm more than glad
Our leader is a dud
And they don't allow rappers in the Bullingdon club