We Don't Know Ball

Eleven men One ball Two baskets No fucking clue Let’s go We don’t know ball We don’t know ball But we’ll fuck you up And win this all Kick that shit Hit that net Wrong damn sport Right damn threat We don’t know ball We don’t know ball Run that pitch Like a pub car brawl No technique Just pure outrage Ref’s a cunt And we’re centre stage Bought my scarf outside from Pete Wrong fucking badge but the price was sweet Said I bleed these colours, bro Had to Google what the colours show Kick-off starts, I’m already mad Why’s nobody tackled? This sport’s gone sad Man falls down from a breeze to the knee I shout “get up, you drama queen Ref blows once, whole room screams I join in hard with rented dreams “Send him off!” I don’t know who Could be red, could be blue Old man next to me calls him a prick So I yell “cunt” and I point real quick That’s how football knowledge grows One angry bastard and the shit he knows Offside Sounds corrupt V.A.R What the fuck Throw-in Use your feet Why’s the goalie dressed Like mall security We don’t know ball We don’t know ball But we’ll fuck you up And win this all Kick that shit Hit that net Wrong damn sport Right damn threat We don’t know ball We don’t know ball Run that pitch Like a pub car brawl No technique Just pure outrage Ref’s a cunt And we’re centre stage Coach keeps shouting “hold the line I shout “yes” like the plan was mine Back four, front three, midfield press Sounds like bullshit in a sponsored vest Number nine hasn’t touched the ball Still my hero, fuck you all If he scores, I’ll lose my mind If he misses, ref was blind Someone shouts “man on your back I turn round like “where’s the attack No man there, just football lies This game is built on coded cries Corner comes, pressure hot I scream “header!” like I know the plot Ball flies in, man heads it wide I tell my mates he nearly died Yellow card Tiny crime Red card Fuck off time Free kick Should be paid Why’s that wall A human parade I don’t trust the linesman Flag No explanation Stoppage time Four minutes Based on what, Derek Your feelings And why can’t the keeper Run the whole damn way He’s got gloves That’s a fucking advantage Boots Grass Pints Rage No Rules Still Stage Pass Miss Dive Cry Shoot From Halfway Why VAR Fuck Who Where Ref Blind Still Swear We don’t know ball We don’t know ball But we’ll fuck you up And win this all Kick that shit Hit that net Wrong damn sport Right damn threat We don’t know ball We don’t know ball Run that pitch Like a pub car brawl No technique Just pure outrage Ref’s a cunt And we’re centre stage We don’t know ball We don’t know ball Still won though Probably