[ Featuring Bas ]
(Omelette du fromage)
Yeah
Little fella, big mouth, call me Scrappy Doo
Turtle, put a shell up in the back of you
Nailed down, show a fella what the hammer do
Batter you, spud got fried like saga aloo
Peter, shut the f*ck up
Load corn in the chicken, let it buck buck
Belly thicker from the beer and the Richmond's
Strap sittin' in the fold, that's a tum tuck
Vintage, antique
The broomstick will make your man's weep
I'm with the Sikhs, six man deep
Make the nine mil' clap like your nans cheeks
Champagne with the top boys
Chinese, dim sum with the bok choy
Split him in the middle with the chopstick
Make a bitch out a man, tom boy
I'm outside with a fag and a can and me top off
Hammered, still knock your block off
Feds comin' to the manor when it pop off
The block's on lock off, I still make the drop off
And they can try and take a couple of bands
I won't make a mosh pit but I'll rockin' 'em heads
They know I'm built like a bottle of stout
And if they try pop caps, I'll be knockin' them out
Puff up your chest, get smoked like cigar
Pull strings like a bloke on a guitar
One call get wrapped dish dasha
Left in a dune in the sands in Qatar
Bando, bricks in between walls
Break bricks like bits on a DeWalt
Bounce bits to the boys in the Midlands
Box out, passin' the rock like it's B-ball
Big chain and it swings on the crisp white
Brin' pain when I flex in a fist fight
Got the missus on the blower, tell her sit tight
I'll be runnin' the roads, I'm back after midnight
Savile Row from head to my tiptoes
Puff a dart then I fling it out the window
Snub nose in the pocket of me three piece
Rest in peace, I'ma die for my zip code
Commas and a dot in the stash
Got the Corrie on the telly while I'm countin' the cash
The man talkin' pork pies, then I'm loadin' the beans
If he's skimmin' on the cream, then I'm bangin' the mash
And you can find me round the back of the bar
Keep a big bing tucked in the back of the car
Got a bird bellin' on me while I cut the cigar
And I just hit decline, baby, look I'm a star
