More songs by Sleaford Mods
Description
Programmer: Andrew Fearn
Associated Performer: Jason Williamson
Mastering Engineer: Matt Colton
Producer: Sleaford Mods
Composer: Andrew Fearn
Composer Lyricist: Jason Williamson
Lyrics and translation
Original
Megaton!
You think you're Nasty Nas.
You're just cringey ass.
Megaton.
Whose side are you on?
Whose shit do you don?
What form of murder do you want?
Kiloton, yeah, and bust a blast.
No war, no death, no point, there's no fucker left.
Apart from you, the emperor's new hoes on a record label. Just sign all the dregs.
Let's face it, rapping ain't class politics.
Give it some legs. Give it some legs, son. Megaton, no war, no death.
Megaton, Megaton, Megaton, Megaton, Megaton. No war, no death.
Megaton, Megaton, Megaton, Megaton.
I'm the Ed, son. Don't make me laugh. They call me double-O Lol.
Licensed to sign up the dole. Not really, I'm Prince Edward really. You whinger.
Right, left, Fred like an horseshoe. He's good with a budget. Hello renters, I'm in you. Ugh.
I hate that saying.
Noughties bands say it when they're driving to the next town they're playing.
Megaton, no war, no death.
Megaton, Megaton, Megaton, Megaton, Megaton. No war, no death.
Megaton, Megaton, Megaton, Megaton. Yeah, weights and wanking.
Our bodies and phone lights, that's all we got.
I got my stomach flat for the money shot.
Shiny cars, Elvis jaws, and no grass. On the road to nowhere. Nobody knows where to post anymore.
Social media weight watchers collabbing with the same old fucking singers.
Spray and pray like lazy dog owners on short walks, mate. Wanker.
Fucking toss parachutes from Chizop aircraft carrier.
Megaton, no war, no death.
Megaton, Megaton, Megaton, Megaton
English translation
Megaton!
You think you're Nasty Nas.
You're just cringey ass.
Megaton.
Whose side are you on?
Whose shit do you don?
What form of murder do you want?
Kiloton, yeah, and bust a blast.
No war, no death, no point, there's no fucker left.
Apart from you, the emperor's new hoes on a record label. Just sign all the dregs.
Let's face it, rapping ain't class politics.
Give it some legs. Give it some legs, son. Megaton, no war, no death.
Megaton, Megaton, Megaton, Megaton, Megaton. No war, no death.
Megaton, Megaton, Megaton, Megaton.
I'm the Ed, son. Don't make me laugh. They call me double-O Lol.
Licensed to sign up the dole. Not really, I'm Prince Edward really. You whinger.
Right, left, Fred like an horseshoe. He's good with a budget. Hello renters, I'm in you. Ugh.
I hate that saying.
Noughties bands say it when they're driving to the next town they're playing.
Megaton, no war, no death.
Megaton, Megaton, Megaton, Megaton, Megaton. No war, no death.
Megaton, Megaton, Megaton, Megaton. Yeah, weights and wanking.
Our bodies and phone lights, that's all we got.
I got my stomach flat for the money shot.
Shiny cars, Elvis jaws, and no grass. On the road to nowhere. Nobody knows where to post anymore.
Social media weight watchers collabbing with the same old fucking singers.
Spray and pray like lazy dog owners on short walks, mate. Wanker.
Fucking toss parachutes from Chizop aircraft carrier.
Megaton, no war, no death.
Megaton, Megaton, Megaton, Megaton