bang on - hands high lyrics
they stand back in amazement
we start rantin and ravin
makin lads drop cans to the pavement
so many beer cans i sound jamaican
mistakenly thinking i’m bringin back the bacon
naa mate am makin scandalous bank statements
blue cos am never in the black
say i’m in the red
i’m lacin my preds
ill kick your -rs- from here to everton and back
tw-ts
get them with terrorism act
frisk us
hits us
its just, it just is
there’s no justice bullsh-t to discuss
if i got one wish i’d up sticks an p-ss off
and never look back
in cl-ss cl-ss i was made to run laps
so busys don’t like me
fine well am feisty
you’ll get a f-ck off
not a “steady on chaps”
my kex sag and my stereo blasts
surely to god they can’t get me on that
so streetwise i wouldn’t be suprised
holdin a mirror to your evian taps
therefore
what do you think i’m f-ckin there for
oggle in me -rs- walkin out of the airport
get p-ssed
talk slow but i slur more
tip toe with the boys with the square jaws
there all
on their best behaviour
seconds later brawling its second nature
and i bet of pair of x ray specs would save ya
right by me genitalia
i’ve wedged the taiser, epilator
watch me pull her
why’s your bird wearin a short skirt?
alls fair in love and warfare
lads grabbin -rs-s in hooded sportswear
i double dare ya so beware the horse hair
from georgian era terraced housin it gets the crowds in
they want to go where rogue bottles are thrown
there’s no stoppin them though
so its sound then
darling
arm in arm downing carling
first name terms with every barman in hardman
she says you gotta keep it down cos me mas in and find the can’t be -rs-d ambience charmin
i’m like i beg your pardon what’s gwanin
… once glance and my c-ck hardens
cudnt give a rats -rs- if ya chat bars
our mas smackd ours ano yours didn’t
trying to act hard it was fraudulent
a kick in the b-lls init
now he’s on the floor kippin
my demands are really simple
what’s that? more drugs
more cash
more women
any man that thinks i’m leaving empty handed has drank it
but get us a gl-ss of what your swiggin
ten lambert the p-ssport slips in the backjacksy
taxi!
the lads all chip in
task force at war with them
imprisoned until me mates bake them cakes with hack saws in them
cos i ooze charisma
use blues for rizla
skipped the queue they still choose to frisk ya
mr dj play a radio friendly unit shifter, i’m screamin tuuune wid ya
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