Soapboy

he sounds like a c**t to me J,

calling chicks slappers and dogs

in public like dat,

i mean what’s da crack wid dat?

he’s meant to be a man?

it beggars belief J it really does,

and your Mrs is fit,

you ant said nowt for ages like,

and he’s all rockin ‘n rollin

widchya

and then he gets aul personal

and intense, like

crappin’ on y’page ‘cause you

wrote a book,

wantin’  ‘ead to ‘ead ‘cause

his other target’s gone quiet

and his wife

won’t dare come back online

for all d’abuse,

how many’s dat now J?

how many women J?

Aw man -

he needs to lighten the fhuck up,

or sorwtin out,

he sounds like one miserable uptight

twat to me,

what a waster J,

i’m sorry like, for you and your kid

and all, like,

i bet he’s got nae mates,

nae job,

nae girl,

prison ye say?

aye, he’ll a bin a songbird, always

grassing to the Rozzas,

a songbird soapboy, ‘ow ‘bout

that for poetic alliteration eh J?

last time he had some excitement

no doubt,

bend over,

pick up da soap!

send ma regards

next time your on J.