| 10 Past 10, the word’s around
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| There’s a party going down in Newport town
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| Loads of free booze and they gonna feed us
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| I steps to it in my new white Adidas
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| Like comedy, with John Candy
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| It’s funny to see, my mate Ballsey
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| You think he’s got the munchies and he’s eating a Snickers
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| But he’s walking around the kitchen in your mothers knickers
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| Party in the bedroom, the kitchen and the corridor
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| Everybody’s high cos I’m the fucking draw ambassador
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| No smoking, what the fuck is that
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| I’ll cane your 9-bar and I’ll rob your fuckin' 4-pack
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| It’s a house party like Kid N Play
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| The DJ’s being sick in the fucking hallway
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| Chain Gang crew and we’re back on the draw
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| It’s the party get on the dance floor!
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| 10 Past 10, the party’s on
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| So get down, and smoke a bong!
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| 10 Past 10, the party’s on
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| So get down, and smoke a bong!
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| You knows!
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| Sambuca, Tenants Super, just lager, rose wine — the pink stuff, error vodka!
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| Weed, Eggies, Builders Whizz, Mushrooms
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| Yellow Pages and French polishes
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| Antique tables and expensive furs
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| Oh son, you’re never gonna learn
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| The living room carpet’s full of fag burns!
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| Everybody’s high with the lights down low
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| At the house party, or is it a bungalow?
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| Feeling the vibe, and letting it flow
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| Just had a bong, now its going really slow
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| You’re turning white and you’re stumbling upstairs
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| You’re like the zombie from my fucking nightmares
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| You’re turning green with the thousand yard stares
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| Covered in sick, but you just don’t care!
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| Oh 11pm things are just getting started
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| The music gets louder all the dickheads have departed
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| I roll myself a jazzy then I sit back and wait
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| For my boys to come back from the pub with a crate
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| In your mum’s drinks cabinet, break out the Pimms
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| And the Bristol Creams, it’s like an episode of Skins
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| Wasted! | 
| Lost control of my bowels
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| Run out of toilet paper so I’m using your towels!
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| 10 past 12 turn up the bass
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| Turn up the treble, I’m off my face!
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| 10 past 12 turn up the bass
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| Turn up the treble, I’m off my face!
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| They got Gordons Gin, Grand Mariner, Metaxa, Bells Whisky, and Baileys Original
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| Irish Cream
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| 10 past 2 the council knocks the door
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| The music’s too loud and it stinks of draw
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| Some kids naked walking around with a stiff
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| And your next door neighbour’s with the vicar having spliff
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| I can’t believe it — where are all the birds?
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| I’m not gonna pull so I break out the herbs
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| Shit on the walls like my man Bobby Sands
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| This party’s got me fucked and it’s ruined my plans
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| Oh, you got any draw there?
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| I think Paul’s got draw
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| I don’t…I haven’t got any draw left… I'll have to go through the
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| ashtrays do roach-head classics
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| 10 past 6 it’s all gone wrong
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| Run out of weed nothing left for my bong!
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| 10 past 6 it’s all gone wrong
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| Run out of weed nothing left for my bong!
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| Who’s at the door? | 
| It’s the police, shit, shit, it’s the police.
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| Is it the police? | 
| Who’s at the door?
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| Just as the fucking Ecky’s kicking in as well man!
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| Fuck I’m going into space!
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| I’m not doing time for wrecking someone’s house up
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| It’s not even my house, I don’t even know where we are!
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| Who’s house is it?!
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| Fucking hell it is the police an all!
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| Shit!
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| Where’s Paul gone?! |