Passing trains patterning my window pane
Below clouds navigating through the shipping lanes
Of the sky, like an ocean, while the whipping rain
Dripping over Monday, water on the city brain
I sit and think of how to spin a phrase
Though it’s more hit and miss than a year four cricket game
Swinging for a little fame and getting bowled over,
Dreamt I won the Lotto, and then I rolled over,
Woke up, my girlfriend showing cold shoulders
Cos I ain’t paid the heating bill, and I’m a no hoper
Maybe darling, I listen to the baby starlings,
singing from the rooftops as yet another day is starting

Yeah I could tell what i'm looking to do
Yeah I could tell where I'm looking to go

The beat kicks like Messi through the back four
but no chance for Sky Sports, its back into the track for
clean vocals, then re-record some ad-libs,
couldn't breathe the first take, you see I got some bad ribs
mad kids broke em in a fight, every word hurts that I spoke into the mic,
But i've only got a short time, i'm hoping its alright,
Now its seven o' five, so it's clothes on, and out in the light


Yeah I could tell what i'm looking to do
and everything I do, i'm lucky I do


South Bermondsey, where the sirens are emergencies,
and the estates keep on rehearsing for a murder scene
some burly teens punched up my neighbour,
had his nosebleed decorating the front of his morning paper,
while the vapour of the weed smoke drifts like green ghosts
I walk through it and the elevator seems broke
I take the stairs again, cold getting my hairs on end
I put my hands together like i'm miming for the prayers of the men,
that's lack of gloves, I leave the building, with a rap I love
Playing on my phone, and I'm running till I catch the bus,
lungs telling me remember you got asthma Muz,
out of breath, sweating, then its on the way to Hackney bruv.
The kids there know me, and also Mr Antrobus,
having sat in class with us, and studying the classics cos
what's education without Lauryn Hill?
I'm a white boy rap teacher, pretty odd but still