Nytheone Matt

You know I’m pretty fat but not like super proper fat
Can get a bit tetchy but I’m not a full on twat
I write better shit poems than the bloke on the street
But I’ll never get to stand on a stage at Glastonbury
Do spoken word and go red in the face
My past two slams I came second place
I make songs and tunes no one wants to listen to
I’m not Mills and Boon but for plots I’m on cue
I make people laugh but when I write a joke
It falls flat
Can’t toke, end up a lazy Matt
But I can’t quit either cos I go insane
Get delusions of grandeur
Sharp shocks to the brain
Got looks as such but no Michael Fassbender
But at least I’m fitter than Sonja from Eastenders
I make tasty food much better than a ready meal
You’d give a quid or two if it were pay what you feel
I keep it real
I can never fake sincerity
Which makes me look heartless
Like it’s no big deal
Like when they ask me to dance
And I say “no thanks”
I would if it were hip hop
But not house or trance
I say ‘don’t slag off styles
It’s just not to your taste’
But then I’ll moan about Adele for 20 minutes who I hate
I speak parts of two tongues but can’t hold a conversation
Do I want to be a part of this or any other nation?
Need all my food spicy and regret it the next morning
I argue a point to the point it’s fucking boring
Feel sad for the cows but I still eat meat
I smile and then freak out all the folks in the street
I try and be sweet and end up being patronising
Come off as a racist when I try satirising
Come off narrow minded when I’m trying to understand
But every time I screw up, on my feet I’ll land
If I were Luke Wilson; Idiocracy
I’d no longer be the king of mediocrity
But I’m three stars out of five
In Chinese ‘mamahuhu’
Philosophy degree held
But I got a Dezzy Tutu
And this piece right here maybe you’re thinking it’s alright
But like Sick Boy in the back of your mind it’s just shite