Welcome to another time where crime is called disorder
Disorder from a state of mind, hyperactive of a kind
Kind that labels low-life haughty, haute couture but more than naughty

Rappers spouting crap as they are chillin’ in the ‘hood
A hood to mask a trap where ‘sense’ is killing common good

Party at the corner shop, “Stop the bus I’m getting off”
A flash of light and down I drop, the fallout from an alcopop

Excuses for the uses of a blade hid in a pocket
A pocket full of use with hot blood jetting from your socket

Nothing else is left to fear except that fear itself
As selfish cheers ring round my ears, a harmony of hate and stealth
Stinging stench of cheap stale beer, discharge from a drunken leer
Mingle with the spit and tears, impression from a footprint clear

Celebrity feigns shame in a cloudburst of cocaine
A pinch to ease the pain, a crutch to lift the lame
A blanket for the vain, “Oh look another hurricane”
Wash hands of any blame, dry desert skies cry out for rain

Trip the light fantastic, fashioned out of plastic
Dipped in bling so drastic, golden and tantastic

Disappear into a world where you exist and I observe
Back among the cheapest seats, stumbling to your drumming beats

Words of wisdom to ignore, your empire mantra “more is more”
A paradox of ripened fruit that tastes so sour to rotten youth

Easy to impreza brain that views a weakness as a gain
Where shopping’s an Olympic game and ‘stupid’ is a route to fame
Spectators all the same
Repetition in refrain