Basement Jaxx
Blah Blah
Make way for the S-O-V

I see your first priorities are discussing me in Maccy D's
At about half three
While you're muchin' on your quarter-pounder with cheese?
Chatting about me and my abilities

Like S-O-V you're shit
S-O-V can't spit
S-O-V just quit
Ahh, Whatever don't talk with your mouth full bitch

While you're discussing me it's all publicity
Even if you're cussin' me you're still dashing my name around the city
It's all good though (brapp brapp) publicity for free
White midget, uh huh, mic fidget
Somebody just dialed my digit

S-O-V you're no one, haha is it
Flattered by the way that you use your credit
You fed it and you said it that I'm nobody
If I'm nobody then why are you ringing me?
You drained your credit that's killing it
Well my style you sure you ain't feeling it?

Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah
In one ear and it comes straight out the other
Repeating yourself like you got a stutter
With all your mutter like reh reh reh rah
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah
All your words in my brain are turning into clutter
Repeating yourself like you got a stutter
With all your mutter like reh reh reh rah

People want to classify me as an Eminem
But hear what I'm a different kind of specimen
Just because I be a white Caucasian
Doesn't mean me and him are the same

Because one I'm not American, two I'm not a man
Three I'm coming through with a different kind of plan
Setting the facts straight cause I know that I can
Purely heavyweight cause I do the whole shebang

Categories I don't fit into any
Why I'm on so many styles I'm on many
Writing up more lines than Burberry
And dealing with beats like a victim of a bully

Make them drink my saliva off the floor
That spit that I spat when I walked in the door released my metaphor
Like cor blimey it's that white girl S-O-V

I know you don't boast about me over your Sunday roast
Or your mid-morning cheese on toast
But when I found out you've been talking
It's all different you start squawking

S-O-V, I never said that
S-O-V, you know you ain't whack
S-O-V, I love your track
What the fuck do you want bitch, a pat on the back?

A blahbarian equals a soon to be beg-friend
Cause a beg-friend is an ex-blahbarian
And they only start caring
When you're preparing the next riddim that every deck is blaring
Oh fuck, I got posh people swearing
The rich, the poor, the snobs, the whores
Oh, dear Blahbarians galore