Hands High (Instrumental) Lyrics & Tabs by Bang On!
Hands High (Instrumental)
guitar chords 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 arse from here to everton and back,
twats,
get them with terrorism act,
frisk us,
hits us,
its just, it just is,
frisk us,
hits us,
its just, it just is,
there's no justice bullshit to discuss,
if I got one wish I'd up sticks an piss off,
and never look back
in class class I was made to run laps,
so busys don't like me,
fine well am feisty,
you'll get a fuck 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 fuckin there for,
oggle in me arse walkin out of the airport,
get pissed,
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 arses 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 arsed ambience charmin,
I'm like I beg your pardon what's gwanin,
... Once glance and my cock hardens
Cudnt give a rats arse if ya chat bars,
our mas smackd ours ano yours didn't,
Trying to act hard it was fraudulent,
a kick in the balls 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 glass of what your swiggin,
ten lambert the passport 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
