He reads his paper from the back, walks and talks like he is black
He's got no style, he's got no grace, a guilty look upon his face
And there's his bitch so fat and ugly, always angry, so she should be
She can't write and she won't read
What a filthy chav
Filthy trainers and a baseball cap, he gives his kids a rite good slap
Tracksuit bottoms, mobile phone, Vauxhall corsa and a council home
Filthy trainers and a baseball cap, he gives his kids a rite good slap
Tracksuit bottoms, mobile phone, Vauxhall corsa and a council home
He earns his living on the dole like his Dad and all his pals
I earn my living with a Biro and this chav lives for his next giro
And on his street he thinks he's king, glossed the number on his bin
And on his dick he's got a rash
What a filthy chav
Filthy trainers and a baseball cap, he gives his kids a rite good slap
Tracksuit bottoms, mobile phone, Vauxhall corsa and a council home
Filthy trainers and a baseball cap, he gives his kids a rite good slap
Tracksuit bottoms, mobile phone, Vauxhall corsa and a council home