Оригинален текст
Hey yo mate ya better tell ya baby cakes that we all make mistakes
Or shes gonna hate you!
All these promises and not a lotta breakthroughs, I can tell you now
That Ive paid dues
And played moves that caved through, left shattered when I came to
I never hung out with a fake crew
Give me a stage to fall off, while tryin to call shots
Give me a stomach full of some small knots
Early morning doorknocks, now Im pissed off
Not really, who here can hear me clearly?
Im gonna need a show of hands, Ive got that toe jam funk
You punks dont wanna smell my popper stopper
It represents the takes it takes to make it proper
Give me ya knockers in exchange for my boxers
Not the best of trades, but Ill infect ya brain
Give me a train from eltham to inner city melbourne
Give me some urban decay, cant escape the escapade of get some change
At least theres effort displayed, forget the sway
Im yet to say something other than piss dribble
Girl Ill make ya lips tickle, give me a mic and I might make ya hips wriggle
Tingle down the spine Im playing with a racing mind
Give me some paper and a pen and let them bind
Na fuck it just give me a mic