I don’t like house, I don’t like rap
I think they’re so much artless crap
They rumble on in a mindless babble
Hypnotising the drugged-up rabble
You don’t need skill, you don’t need a thing
You don’t even have to learn to sing
Shout out loud your list of shopping
As all the while the air you’re chopping
With relentless rhythm and lots of bass
You’ll soon acquire the aggressive face
Shout about killing and shout about drugs
Yelling to a room full of spaced-out mugs
Back to front trousers and a baseball cap
An angry mouth with unstoppable yap
Are all you need in these strange times
Apart from a pill and a couple of lines
I may be getting old, I may be out of touch
But I see more beauty in an elephant’s crutch
They don’t know love, or understand gentle
I think they’re twisted, or possibly mental
I mentioned already that house is crap
So I wrote these words to the rhythm of rap
This is my tribute to their kind of song
Come and pop some E and then sing along
Drugs are good, drugs are good, you know you really should
Drugs are good, drugs are good, you know you really should…
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