Jolly Fucker Lyrics - Chubbed Up - Sleaford Mods

he cunt with the gut and the Buzz Lightyear haircut 

Callin' all the workers plebs 

You better think about the future 

You better think about your neck 

You better think about the shit hairdo you got mate 

I work my dreams off for two bits of ravioli 

And a warm bottle of Smirnoff 

Under a manager that doesn't have a fuckin' clue 

Do you want me to tell you what I think about you, Cunt? 

I don't think that's a very good idea—do you? 

You pockmarked four-eyed shit-fitted shirt, white Converse 

And a taste for young girls 

Don't send me home with a glint in my eye 

I told my family about the fuckin' wage rise 

And got fucked on 

Devoured 

Puked on 

And sucked up 

You fuckin' fly 

The suction on your fly feet 

Kept me pinned to the blinds 

Whilst your PA rattled out e-mails 

Workstation, forced to engage in flirtatious conversation 

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Fizzy * 3 

Well just to keep the job 

Just to keep fuck all from turning into a fuckin' nothin' blob 

Bang it out; go on tell me what you really think 

You got no chin; an' you got no balls to chin 'em with 

Glass panels separate you 

The mid-price handwash from the bin of used 

Public toilet paper towels 

We've run foul of the hidden hatred 

That festers in dogs like you 

Tripwire taut that makes way for the vacuum 

Ya piece of fuckin' shit 

My name: 

Fizzy! [* 3] 

Photos 

Use the sheet of promise and the red shoes of Dorothy 

Blanked out on the bed of thick monotony 

With the usual stereotypes that fall for the lip 

I fuckin' hate rockers; fuck your rocker shit 

Fuck your progressive side, sleeve of tattoos 

Oompa Loompa blow me down with a feather 

Broken dagger bollock 

Fizzy! [* 3] 

Ahhhh!!