Brylcreem, creatine
And a bag of Charlie Sheen
Brylcreem, creatine
And a bag of co-ca-ine
A dulcet man with a dulcet tone
From a dulcet town and a dulcet home
He hates me, I like that
Two arms like big baseball bats
I bark, he bites back
A jaw like a fuck-off bear trap
He said: These boots are made for stomping
And that's just what they'll do
One of these days these boots are gonna
Stomp all over you

I said I've got a penchant for smokes and kicking douches in the mouth
Sadly for you, my last cigarette's gone out

Concrete to leather
Concrete to leather
Concrete to leather
Concrete
Concrete to leather
Concrete to leather
Concrete to leather
Concrete

A heathen from Eton
On a bag of Michael Keaton
A heathen from Eton
On a bag of Michael Keaton

He thinks he's suave
You're not suave 'cause you watched Get Carter
You are a catalogue, plastic Sinatra
A tryhard who should've tried harder
Me, oh me, oh my, Roy
You look like a walking thyroid
You're not a man, you're a gland
You're one big neck with sausage hands
You are a Topshop tyrant
Even your haircut's violent
You look like you're from Love Island
He stood and the room went silent

Never fight a man with a perm

Concrete to leather
Concrete to leather
Concrete to leather
Concrete
Concrete to leather
Concrete to leather
Concrete to leather
Concrete

I'll shut my mouth
Let's hug it out
I'll shut my mouth
Let's hug it out
I'll shut my mouth
I'll shut my mouth