Ladies and gentlemen, we are blessed to be in the presence of Pete & Bas And today they shall be performing a piece of remarkable work I expect you will enjoy it, frankly Thank you so much And a mate went down for a long one, a young man never said names I’ve got big tools I’ve got big cars and I’ve got big chains Gold, one on each finger, hands on the wheel of the Range You don’t want to come round here, get put through the window frame Get put through the window then I come kick down doors I like my watch but hold on mate, I still want yours. You see these hands, you see this face, you know my name. You don’t want to come round here, get put through the window frame. I don’t want to hear another word from your mouth son, I came to collect this paper Placed so many bets on my iPhone, I used up all of my 4G data Out with the wife in Spoons and I just put a fork in a mouthy waiter Knock a man out in an Uber, I’m the new Charlie Slater You don’t want to come around here, got samurai swords and a blacked out Beamer I’ve got your wife in the kitchen bent down screaming “PKJ” You don’t want to war with this one, Patrick might just gouge your eyes And like I said before, I’m with your wife in the kitchen pounding thighs. I go fast and they go slow And another bad B gets poked
You know that she wants this pole But I’m on road wait till I get home
She brock up the packs, I wrapped it Fling that arse back, I slapped it
You know that Smith’s on road And if I’ve got beef then Ball-Head backed
it. Money, cash, baby do the math
Heavy, stacks, do-do do-do pow I’m in the back of the Beam
Cutting a pack with the team Dishing it out to the fiends
I keep a mash in the jeans. And a man-a-man chef like Gordon
Pull out the kweff and I boot his door in And I’m up till 5 in’t morning
Sunrise cats on the trap line calling Pull out the Pyrex glass, pull out the egg
beater and dash I like to whip white with mash
Any black girl or white I smash. I came to beef one fella
He went home in a black bin bag Thought he could dodge these hands
Head got spun like a ceiling fan I am the man, one phone call and the boys
come down Grab your neck with these hands
Grip real tight, and a man laid down. And a mate went down for a long one, a young
man never said names I’ve got big tools and I’ve got big cars and
I’ve got big chains Gold, one on each finger, hands on the wheel
of the Range You don’t want to come round here, get put
through the window frame Get put through the window then I come kick
down doors I like my watch but hold on mate, I still
want yours You see these hands, you see this face, you
know my name You don’t want to come round here, get put
through the window frame.


1 Comment

Viþe ØN · January 5, 2020 at 9:32 pm

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