Dead end Yobs got football, boxing or rock n roll,
if they're any good at, to save 'em from the dole,
but even if ya make it, certain people will say,
you're still no good and you'll be no other way.
'cos ya don't talk proper, ya accent ain't true blue,
born in a house in Hackney, with an outside loo.
Dead end yobs, - kids like me and you,
Dead end yobs, - just do what you wanna do,
Dead end yobs, - we don't any notice of you.
We could be gangsters, we could rob a bank,
we could join the army, we could drive a tank,
no hope, no future, when you're down and out,
when you're at the bottom, nobody hears you shout.
an authority, keeps knocking on ma head,
from the day you're born, 'til the day you're dead.
Dead end yobs, - kids like me and you,
Dead end yobs, - they tell us what to do,
Middle class people, look down on me and you.
The school report read, he's a dead end yob,
might just make it, in a dead end job,
so I broke all the rules, in and out of school,
got into trouble, nothing else to do,
and when they nick us, don't they bleeding' love,
sod the system, got to rise above it.
Dead end yobs, - kids like me and you,
Dead end yobs, - always at the back of the queue,
It's us v them, the middle class and the boys in blue.

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