High Trousers

I got on my high trousers;
They be kind a climbing
When I put them on I couldn’t stop rhyming
So I put them in the washing machine and it undid the lining
I was losing time when
I decided to dye them
Why then
Am I still climbing?

Uh huh Uh huh u huh

I sighed when I tied them
Above my waist
In the mirror I resided in them
My pride
Denied them
Took them off with a slide
Tried them on again
Still too high
Too tight around the thigh

Uh huh Uh huh u huh

Yo I like my high trousers
The be kinda cool
I put them in the washing mashing and they came out blue
I said I like my high trousers they be kinda mean
I put them in the washing machine and they came out green

I like my high braces
I go to nice places and
Pull five faces at once
At runts

Yo my trousers are too high to sag
I’ll wear them ‘till I die
And in my body bag
I like a Jack Daddy's
And a sip of Glenmorangie
But you can’t get wetter
Than Paddy's whiskey
I talk whispers
I go whipsy
Like Boris as Frankenstein’s monster
Diss him you diss me
And Horace Duk
I take off my hat
For this is this and it's like that