Plane 2 Spain

Alright, geez, let me give ya the squeez,
'Bout James Rocco, who had his fees,
In Hazza West, down at Wacko’s place,
Where the drugs flowed free, it was quite a disgrace.
 
With cider in hand and the parties ablaze,
The nights were a blur, lost in the haze,
"Oi, Rocco!" they'd shout, "Another round, mate!"
And his liver cried mercy. It wasn’t so great.
 
GT levels were sky-high at 178,
Yet Rocco would laugh, "It’s me usual state!"
Friends all around, in houses and streets,
Drug use was constant, like clockwork beats.
 
But Rocco, he knew, it couldn’t last long,
He had to escape, leave the wild throng,
He booked himself a Ryanair flight,
Ten quid to Spain, it was quite a sight.
 
"Sevilla, here I come!" he gave his uncle a call,
On the rooftop, marble floors overlookin' it all.
Tapas and caña became his new song,
As the barrio Macarena carried him along.
 
He could’ve stayed there, longer by far,
But a virus was spreadin’, leaving no bar,
People were hidin’ on rooftops in fear,
Like 12 monkeys, the end felt near.
 
So back on a plane to Bristol, he flew,
But he hated the flyin', it’s bloody true.
"Señorita!" he called, all dizzy and drunk,
"Cuatro cervezas, pronto!" In quite the funk.
 
Wobblin' 'round when he touched back down,
Off to Somerset, where his mate Sham's renowned.
Now Sham, he’s a bloke you don’t wanna cross,
Debt collector, tough, Stone Cold, the boss.
 
We hit the town for a rowdy night,
In Wells, we drank 'til fists took flight,
I got knocked out, my teeth nearly went missin’,
“Blimey,” I thought, “this ain't what I’m wishin’!”
 
Back at Sham's, I was out of my head,
Pissed on the floor, lucky I weren't dead.
Sham laughed it off, we’re bros, y’see,
But any other bloke? Well, that’d be me.
 
I headed to Wales, to a lass named Mandy,
A leprechaun by nature, but her place was dandy.
In the middle o’ nowhere, we hid from the mess,
Pandemic and lockdown? We could care less.
 
She lent me her car, I zoomed 'round the lanes,
Even let Snooper, my mate, come stay in the plains.
We ran Hazza West, sellin’ green by the ounce,
Makin' cash through lockdown, 'twas all a big bounce.
 
We called ourselves James Gang, flyin' in style,
Cannabis runs mile after mile.
But one day on the M4, things went wrong,
Blue lights flashed. It didn’t take long.
 
Snooper shouted, "You’re slowin’ down. Why?
Do you want a high-speed chase, or give it a try?"
"Nah, mate," I said, "I’ve got a daughter to see,
You take the blame. This time, it ain’t for me."
 
24 hours, we were locked in the cells,
Thinkin’ 'bout the tales we’d have to tell.
Police let me go, Snooper stayed behind,
But drivin’ out, nearly crashed, blind.
 
Back to Mandy’s, in grey jumpsuits we wore,
The fuzz found the grow, but Mandy took the score.
They nabbed her for cultivatin’, we stayed clear,
But that’s how it goes, when you live without fear.
 
So there’s the tale, Rocco’s wild spree,
From Hazza West to Spain and back to be free.
A life of parties, cops, and schemes,
Livin' it large, chasin' broken dreams.