Goldie Lookin Chain - Wrecked Up lyrics

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Intro:-

.....Quick, get his wallet, we're off down the fukin' Spar, c'mon!

Quick...draw on his face, man, draw on his face, clart.

Get his willy out, get it, man, take a photo and send it to fukin' Woman's Own, haaa....

Leave it, man...i'm fukin' wrecked!

Ben Wa Balls came round and smoked loads of draw

Next thing I know, he's asleep on the floor

What's goin' on? I just had a bong

I feels light headed, this can't last for long

If you can't take the blow then I think you better leave

I think you better know and you better believe

This kid's serious, I gotta go home

I look really mashed, I'm as white as a bone

I'm all mashed up just like Eddie Kid

I can't move my arms and i feel like a flid

Look at you, clart, you're in a right fukin' state

I can't believe you just chucked up over my mate

I told you not to have that last fukin' hit

And your leisuresuit smells of fukin' shit

Get out the house and fuk off home

You stupid twat, that was a pure skunk cone

It's not clever to get wrecked and have shit dripping out of your ass

Now my name's P Xain and I smoke for Britain

But I smoked a bud and now I'm trippin'

I feel fukin' wicked like Terry Wogan

Like Crocodile Dundee 2's Paul Hogan

I'm fukin' mashed, I needs to go home

I feels fukin' wrecked and I'm white like a bone

I gotta lie down, I gotta do it soon

If I don't do it fast then I'm gonna puke in the room

I smokes loads of weed, I'm on my fukin' knees

All I need now is a quarter pounder with cheese!

I needs to put my jacket on and get my trouser suit

But I can't pick up my trainers coz I've been sniffing glue

I've been smokin' a bong for far too fukin' long

Coz after a while, I feels like a mong

So pack that chong and give me a hit

Hussain's tracksuit never smells of dog shit

I smoked half a pound of Li-Ganga's fukin' gear

So go fuk yourself if you says that I'm a queer

Give me a phone coz I'm going fukin' numb

I gotta get back or my nan will start to moan

So see you boys soon, laters clarts

I'm off to pull some Newport fukin' tarts

Shout to your neighbours, shout to the ravers

Shout to the people who do loads of favours

For you, and the GLC crew

Safe as fuk, you knows it

Time to go home, son

Fukin' time for the taxi to come

I said this kid's right, I gotta get home

I feels really mashed, I'm white as a bone

I gotta get out but I can't fukin' move

Shit, that draw's strong, I've bust my groove

Shout out to Carl from Risca, he knows he's safe, He knows the score coz you knows he sells me the fukin' draw

G-G-G-Goldie lookin' chain

Goldie lookin' chain

Respect to all the people who've got a bit mashed in the past and dirtied themselves and had to go and clean themselves up