Verse 1: Matter

Jed Mitchell, furiously masturbates while listening to the Sex Pistol
His daily breakfast is fresh gristle
Which he washes down with a wet tissue
Nah, fuck that
He ain't proper Scottish like whiskey and deep fried Mars bars;
He's a posh bitch like hazelnut lattes and foie gras
But he likes "Hold that shit, wait! If I feel my diet plan is great and I'm happy with my average weight then I might treat myself to a deep fried After-Eight!"
And for the record, my Scottish accent's GREAT
Fucking Unclе Tom Scottsman
Rejecting his heritagе
So when I put him in a box
Is it a union jack you want to be buried with?
Because your so English
There's nothing you like doing more than to queue in line
Your so English
You watched the royal wedding and got gooey-eyed
Your so English
I bet you'd be tipsy after 30 pints
Your so fucking English
Them fucking teeth are worse than mine
Your so English you think David Cameron's handsome
And in a Scottish pub you got glassed up for standing for the British national anthem
When he's not tugging to gay porn
He's thugging to Kreayshawn
And when I hit him with a left and right
He'll be left red and white
And he'll be chuffed because those are the colors are St. John
He's from a city called Fife
It's where he's lived all his life
But when he sees Eurgh he tries to get his dick up inside
That way whether home or away
He's still up in Faife's
Yo, I got some standard Scottish jokes
To expose Jed as a faggot
Like fuck being a heroin addict
You can catch him injecting some haggis
Watching Trainspotting everyday and he prays for a sequel
And I don't actually care whether or not you're a slave to the needle
You've got the face of a weasel