[Intro]
Oosh
Sounds dope
Yea, bro, sounds dope
Yeah
It’s dedicated to
Check
Yeah

[Verse 1: Tom Scott]
It’s dedicated to all the artists who struggling
Through the hardship and punishment from the heart for the love of it (Yeah)
It’s motivated by all they partners who stuck with them
And help them pick it up again when they were thinking, 'fuck it then'
It’s been inspired by all the marvellous mothers and
All the fatherless troublesome broken bastards that bum off them
It’s for the hustlers scabbing off of the government
Wandering in the street playing cricket with the rubbish bin
It’s for the lonely nerd rolling herb on his
Broken turntable that he mixes beats on that no one's heard
It’s for the bony bird spitting spoken word
Blowing dough on phony fur, rocking headphones that only work
In one side, for that unsigned drunk guy
Who never let the funk die, working like he’s done by
Hard, it’s for the Sheila with the bung eye
And too much pride to let her son see his mum cry
Real, it’s for the has-beens that had dreams
The fuck ups and crack fiends, the dropouts and drag queens
It’s for the last kid picked, the first picked on
The one they laugh at, the opposite from a sitcom
It’s for the fat kid, the misfit rat kid
The lipstick black chick that no one ever sat wit'
Dirt broke brat kid that never really had shit
Rat back scab eating noodles out the packet
It’s dedicated to the skater kids chucking rocks
Taggers cutting locks, stoners huffing NOS
Fuck the cops and the rugby jocks
Fuck my boss and the goodie-goodie prefects sucking cocks (Fuck you)
For the fellas that I sat up in detention with
And anyone that’s ever had their name on the attendance list (Yeah)
It’s for every kid that ever thought of ending it
And every piss poor bum living on a benefit
[Chorus]
This one goes out
This one goes goes goes out to you (it’s dedicated to)
This one goes out this this one goes goes out to you (it’s dedicated to)
This one goes out this this one goes goes out to you (it’s dedicated to)

[Verse 2: Tom Scott]
This for the open arms the prisoners holding bars
Watching life rolling past faster than stolen cars
For fiends trying find a fix for their broken hearts
Rolling grass while they wash their hands of time toke their chance
For the stoners laughs that we shared over Nas
Full blast on my arse sitting in my bro’s garage
Going halves on a cask making moments last
Wishing we could hold the past frozen like it’s golden stance
For the days gone
The days made on
The cardboard we breaked on with blue puma suede's on
It’s for the boom-box 2Pac played on
The same one I chewed up my Snoop Dogg tape on
This is for 94
When I had the highest score running new street fighter with the double fire ball
This for the change that I spent on a giant jaw
Breaker and the pocket money that I used to buy the Source
It’s for the rap fanatics
The Illmatic addicts
Racking stacks of classic wax and baggy jackets
Backpackers on the train tracks tagging backwards
From the back of Mathematics to the back of paddy wagons
This for when I rapped the plastic of fantastic
And when I first heard fat lip on labcabin
That magic
I felt when I sat in my bomb that I boomed Southernplayalisticadillac (It's just two dope boys in a Cadillac)
This for back then the back-seat dirt I did
Permanent scars are left on hearts of birds I hit
It’s for the bridge burning with the first herb I lit
For my worst hurt I turn to the best verse I spit
It’s for the world turning as well all turn to shit
Predetermined ill return it to it no alternative
Getting high killing time like murderers
This is life peace to the cell-mates I serve it with
This is dedicated to (you)
This is dedicated to (you)
This is dedicated to (you)
This is dedicated to (you)

This one goes goes goes out to you