Timothy by Mr.B The Gentleman Rhymer Lyrics
I remember one jolly fresh start to the weekend
The furrow in my fleshy firm brow was deepened
When upon checking out some crucial electro
I heard a voice that left me vexed, so
It was a voice of an oaf of the lower caste
But it reminded me of somebody from my past
I said I've got it at last, this absolute arse
Came bottom in our latin class
Timothy St John Westwood, that was his name
It's a shame his vocal chords have gone quite lame
His enunciation is an utter disgrace
He's dropping Ts and Rs all over the place
This can't be that quiet vicar's son
Who had awful trouble trying to pick a chum
When the quick would run and leave him sickly glum
Now he's talking in my radio about dropping bombs
What ever happened to Timothy
I was at prep with him you see
We used to call him spaz
Now he's on air chatting to Nas
He was a whizz with a cricket bat
But he never used to talk like that
(Spoken)
Understand! Westwood says, don't ride dirty, ride big!
I nearly spilt my tea into my saucer
When somebody called you the millennial Chaucer
Of course you're not, that's my ruddy job!
Your grammar's appaling and you sound like a guttersnipe street yob
A bloody slob from ( a peat bog ) or some such place
Where none such grace can be found
Like the rhymes that I'm throwing down
Well you're going round like a crowing clown
Pimping rides for the dire murdies
Well I'd think you would know my Morris is sturdy
We both liked hip-hop, but isn't it strange
That I've kept my accent, yet yours has changed
Come now old bean, it's time to own up
Say 'How do you do?' instead of 'What's up?'
Your mother will be please and your father relieved
But I'm afraid Lady Fanshawe will still be peeved
What on earth happened to Timothy
I was at prep with him you see
He was about as hard as my grand mama
Now he's friends with the Wu Tang Clan, bizarre
He was a whizz with a cricket bat
But he never used to talk like that
(Spoken)
It's your boy Westwood. Get your rims bling-blinging, then throw the smell-good inside
What ever happened to Timothy
I was at prep with him you see
We used to call him spaz
Now he's on air chatting to Nas
He was a whizz with a cricket bat
But he never used to talk like that
What on earth happened to Timothy
I was at prep with him you see
He was about as hard as my grand mama
Now he's friends with the Wu Tang Clan, bizarre
He was a whizz with a cricket bat
But he never used to talk like that
He never used to talk like that
That's right!
The furrow in my fleshy firm brow was deepened
When upon checking out some crucial electro
I heard a voice that left me vexed, so
It was a voice of an oaf of the lower caste
But it reminded me of somebody from my past
I said I've got it at last, this absolute arse
Came bottom in our latin class
Timothy St John Westwood, that was his name
It's a shame his vocal chords have gone quite lame
His enunciation is an utter disgrace
He's dropping Ts and Rs all over the place
This can't be that quiet vicar's son
Who had awful trouble trying to pick a chum
When the quick would run and leave him sickly glum
Now he's talking in my radio about dropping bombs
What ever happened to Timothy
I was at prep with him you see
We used to call him spaz
Now he's on air chatting to Nas
He was a whizz with a cricket bat
But he never used to talk like that
(Spoken)
Understand! Westwood says, don't ride dirty, ride big!
I nearly spilt my tea into my saucer
When somebody called you the millennial Chaucer
Of course you're not, that's my ruddy job!
Your grammar's appaling and you sound like a guttersnipe street yob
A bloody slob from ( a peat bog ) or some such place
Where none such grace can be found
Like the rhymes that I'm throwing down
Well you're going round like a crowing clown
Pimping rides for the dire murdies
Well I'd think you would know my Morris is sturdy
We both liked hip-hop, but isn't it strange
That I've kept my accent, yet yours has changed
Come now old bean, it's time to own up
Say 'How do you do?' instead of 'What's up?'
Your mother will be please and your father relieved
But I'm afraid Lady Fanshawe will still be peeved
What on earth happened to Timothy
I was at prep with him you see
He was about as hard as my grand mama
Now he's friends with the Wu Tang Clan, bizarre
He was a whizz with a cricket bat
But he never used to talk like that
(Spoken)
It's your boy Westwood. Get your rims bling-blinging, then throw the smell-good inside
What ever happened to Timothy
I was at prep with him you see
We used to call him spaz
Now he's on air chatting to Nas
He was a whizz with a cricket bat
But he never used to talk like that
What on earth happened to Timothy
I was at prep with him you see
He was about as hard as my grand mama
Now he's friends with the Wu Tang Clan, bizarre
He was a whizz with a cricket bat
But he never used to talk like that
He never used to talk like that
That's right!