Yo, listen up, fam! Dis is me, ya proper little slag, spillin' da tea on how I serve me Chav Boss Ambrose. Innit tho? Man's a proper legend, rockin' dem Adidas trackies, gold chains danglin' like he's king of da ends. I wake up early, yeah? Brew 'im a strong cuppa tea wiv two sugars, none of dat weak shite. Den I polish 'is creps till dey shine brighter dan da sun on a council estate. Boss Ambrose rolls in, all swagger, callin' me 'is good boy' or whateva, an' I drop to me knees quick smart. Sort 'is breakfast – beans on toast, bacon sarnie, da works. Clean da gaff spotless while 'e's out hustlin', make sure da PlayStation's charged for when 'e wants to smash some FIFA. Even iron 'is Burberry cap, bruv! Evenings? Man's chillin' on da sofa, I fetch 'im cans of Stella from da fridge, massage 'is feet after a long day bossin' it. If 'e says jump, I say 'how high, boss?' An' yeah, sometimes it gets proper cheeky, but dat's between me an' me boss, innit? Loyal as fook, me. Wouldn't 'ave it any ova way. Who's got a boss like mine? No one, dat's who!