Jam Baxter - Chateaux in Toulouse lyrics

Verse 1 (Jam Baxter): Oi, sh** Aren't you the kid who got lobotomized? Or the kid that smacked the dollar signs off your eyes? Fully under qualified Kicking off in God's office Mind state rock solid Your whole body fossilized I got a couple hundred crews that I move between And we all live our lives in a lucid dream They got their pupils glued to every moving screen Blueish-green eyes stay spinning Like a fruit machine All three wheels land on bar-bar-bar Start at twenty pence have a [?] Five star par Skin red raw like boeuf tartare Mind mushed to a pasta like duck fragua Yeah, so you're content to drive a riot van? I suggest you try a cyanide diet plan He was sure that badge he flashed made him Iron man Uniformed piggy, slash slimy old slice of ham And I ain't gonna quit for sh** Check your raffle tickets, kids You've all won a life-time supply of Jam Collect the coupon I collect leggy skets, experimental psychedelic chemicals And twenty decks I awake smelling lemon fresh And a trophy on my shelf reads "best dressed disheveled mess" You just want a hellish creche full of dead pensioners Rocking chair rejects, day center regulars Verse 2 (Dirty Dike): I've had an hour and a half's kip And I ain't showered since the last gig On some 'flowers and a gimp-mask sh**' With a hip flask I pitch slow, but I live fast I tip-toe round your big bars With a sh** dance And six-figure body pop a b**h in the tits, fast You laugh, and I suppose it's funny if your dad approves I make it all about your mummy And her attitude Someone come take this 'Ye off We'll have you looking like a f**ing sun-baked potato Some c*nt's smudged the mayo And you do all this dumb drunk stuff because I say so But hey ho, bye hoe, I don't wanna fry hoe Put me horizontal with a bevvy on a lilo Strap in a snorkel and forget me as I die slow Italian spaghetti through the portal of your iPhones Cry those, tears in a plastic bag of sympathy I'm empathetic to the fattest slag who diddled me If that's pathetic you can stab a weapon in your feet And run a hundred meters through A stinging nettle s**-retreat That's what I thought You dodge my Olympics over one obnoxious thought Spore, I challenge you to everything I'm arrogant, I'll bang her You're embarra**ed on your Ketamine Verse 3 (Dabbla): f**, smoke some sh** that had me thinking "damn" [?] as all that stuff you see on Instagram All this pouting is putting me off my f**ing food Now I'm skipping dessert while I'm switching dinner plans Took a dip in the forest and nearly pooed myself You stick your dick in a Goddess You need to prove yourself Another sip, nearly sick in an orange Sainsbury's bag Still I held it in with a grin and spudded my future self Big, that's how it feels to peel an extra layer Crembrule, deadly spray of deadly player Great purveyor, my flavor's straight from the Himalaya Yeah, put your hands in the motherf**in' "ayer" And bust a wave for the ones Who forgotten how to dance And crack a smile in their face like it's Shattered powdered gla** You continue to talk out of your arse Well I'll be living like a bawss in a house In the South of France