Ladz Ladz Ladz

Night out with the ladz

Don your Topman pulling shirt

Inhale into your pants

Turn your cunt dial up to nine

And don’t forget your bantz

No mate, you can’t bring your girlfriend

This one’s just for ladz

Boys only, we’re not queer

Fosters tops are not dear

Feeling like Reservoir Dogs

More like presenting Top Gear

Form a queue outside the bogs

Cos Vinnie’s brought some top gear

Oi mate, where’s the fanny at?

Smash her mate and marry that

That’s a girl

Not a that

Vinnie’s having none of that

That’s because Vinnie’s a twat

Why’ve you gotta talk so loud?

I’m only stood right here

Why do you stop swearing

Whenever a girl comes near?

As if you’re being courteous

Like she could give a shit

Her mates talk even dirtier

You condescending prick

Won’t admit

Funny girls even exist

Come on, are we getting pissed, or what?

Down a Jager, neck a shot

Chug whatever else you’ve got

Slam tequila, sip a Bud

Now are we all feeling good?

Speak your mind, don’t preach

Twenty-nine pounds each

Waste of time, don’t teach

What his mind can’t reach.

Fading popularity with age

Naming no names

Who needs personality when you got drinking games

Hiding holes in character

Conversation barrier

As long as we’re all battered

We’re the LADS LADS LADS

Thinking doesn’t matter

With the LADS LADS LADS

Vinnie’s looking twatted

What a LAD LAD LAD

Leave your morals thataway

On it every Saturday

Tryna be a modern thinking LAD LAD LAD

Boyfriend Material

Am I just out of my depth here I wonder

I left my heart out, she got my number

I don’t mean like she’s gona ring me or owt

I mean like she’s on to me, she’s sussed me out

Like none of my usual antics affect her

She’s got an arrogant bullshit detector

Asshole protector

Try to correct her

Kicks me a kerb, rings her dad to collect her

Every 10 seconds the goalposts are moving

Started a loser, now I’m improving

Spend all my life trying to get to her standard

Then when I’m standard, that becomes standard

There’s a new standard, I’m left stranded

Wondering how in the hell I’m still standing

Climbing a staircase without a landing

Leave the labels out, show the branding

I’m fucking worth something

Real deal

Any old meathead can pay for a meal

Write his own name on Asda’s own flowers

Sit chatting in the sunshine for hours

I can do that if I put my mind to it

Romance isn’t dead when I do it

Write your hopes down, draw a line through it

Write them lower and I’ll get round to it.

I’m boyfriend material

Cold milk on your cereal

I won’t give you lovesick blues

I’m something more venereal

Not lovesick, disease

I’m down on my knees

I’ll go as low as you say so

I’m broken, trying to please

Hopeless apologies

Fog of good impression cleared

Late honeymoon period

Oscars for the smiles we’re faking

Sound of cheap promises breaking

Failing tests I wasn’t taking

You alright? Your voice is shaking

I remember when your eyes were blue

Now they’re red and kinda swollen

Endless happy days I’ve stolen

Richie, Ralph and Fonzarelli

Stood staring out of your telly

Like, “Mate what have you become?”

You took a live one, made her numb

You can’t sit with us

You don’t fit with us

She’s hard work. Trying your best

Sounds like shit to us

Not you, it’s me, a cop out

Phoney high school drop out

You could stop the rot

If you weren’t such a dirty stop out

Check your watch
Grab your crotch

One, two, three o’clock, four o’clock, rock

Said you’d be home by ten, you cock

Out of date milk on your cereal

Phoning in what should be real

You’re worth something more ethereal

I’m not quite boyfriend material