The BBQ Song by Mass MC Lyrics
[Intro: [?] & [?]]
[?]
[?]
[?]
Hello?
Yeah, I'm rehearsing, man, leave me alone, dude
Can't you just fuckin' leave me alone, man, youse always busting my balls, mate
When I'm rehearsing, you going to a barbecue? I'm there, mate
[Chorus: Mass MC]
I'm comin' to your barbecues, man, no more
I'm comin' to your barbecues, man, no more
[Verse 1: Mass MC]
I was half totalled and fully fresh (Fresh)
A bottle of Johnnie Walker at a wack barbecue
Beers to top it off with Black Sambuca chasers
Looked in my pocket (What?), lost my papers (Damn)
Two MCs near the garage, one was rhymin'
The other beatboxin', both out of time, and
A kid was following me with his rhyme book (Huh?)
Showin' me his tight verses, I told him they were bomb
Be strong 'cause it's a jungle out there
I sat down and went right through the chair
I must be havin' a bad day, it's 20 past
Took my thongs off and stood on a piece of glass
Tripped over, burnt my hand on a hot plate
Knocked a schooner of beer in the DJ's crate (Oi, what are you doin', mate?)
Someone let off a firecracker and burned my hair
Stuff your hip-hop barbecue, man, I'm outta here
[Chorus: Mass MC]
I'm comin' to your barbecues, man, no more
Ain't comin' to your barbecues, man, no more
I'm comin' to your barbecues, man, no more
Don't wanna hear about that shit no more
[Verse 2: Mass MC]
Ha
On my way out there was two chicks in the front yard
Adidas trackies to hide their fat arse
I sucked my stomach in and tried to walk straight
If I don't score now, another night, I masturbate (Yeah)
I'm out of this party anyway (Shit)
My stomach hurts 'cause them steaks tasted like hay
"Hello princess, what are you doin' later on?"
"Nothin' much with you, unless you own a bong
I got closer, it's either do or die
Visions of mad sex, I saw it in her eye
One recognised me, "It's Mass MC
You bastard, you stole my purse when I was in Sydney"
I'm not Mass, my name's MC Hyjak
Both started throwin' barrages of slabs (Leave me alone, man)
[Chorus: Mass MC]
I'm comin' to your barbecues, man, no more
Don't wanna hear about that shit no more
I'm comin' to your barbecues, man, no more
Don't wanna hear about that shit no more
[Verse 3: MC Thorn]
I stepped back in at the right time, Mass had a heap of shader
Black under his eyes, upper cuts all round
Down for the count, countdown to knockin' MCs off to The Crown
I'm movin' nothin' but crowds, that's how I rock now
From the underground, I hit the surface when the pressure's on
I got mad can control (Oh shit)
I hear the sound of the police patrol, stick to what I know
Headmaster of a class of my own
I'm known to steal the show, grab the mixer and the turns
We out to burn, jumpin' back fences to exit
Your best bet is not to invite Sydney's best
We runnin' hardcore, Mass MC featuring Thorn
We ain't comin' back to your barbecue no more
Yo, get your mind off food, brother, and get your fucking fat arse over the fence
(Huh, oh man, come on, just one more sausage and steak and shit, man)
[Chorus: Mass MC]
I'm comin' to your barbecues, man, no more
I don't wanna come to your barbecues, man
[?] no more
Leave me in peace, man, [?] forget about this number, man
Ain't comin' to your barbecues, man, no more
Forget about my mobile number, don't ring me at home, man
[?] that shit no more
Every time I go to barbecues I'm always getting bad luck, man, don't ring me up. I don't wanna know about that shit no more. Forget my mobile number, man; forget it. I'm not coming to your barbecue, man
[?]
[?]
[?]
Hello?
Yeah, I'm rehearsing, man, leave me alone, dude
Can't you just fuckin' leave me alone, man, youse always busting my balls, mate
When I'm rehearsing, you going to a barbecue? I'm there, mate
[Chorus: Mass MC]
I'm comin' to your barbecues, man, no more
I'm comin' to your barbecues, man, no more
[Verse 1: Mass MC]
I was half totalled and fully fresh (Fresh)
A bottle of Johnnie Walker at a wack barbecue
Beers to top it off with Black Sambuca chasers
Looked in my pocket (What?), lost my papers (Damn)
Two MCs near the garage, one was rhymin'
The other beatboxin', both out of time, and
A kid was following me with his rhyme book (Huh?)
Showin' me his tight verses, I told him they were bomb
Be strong 'cause it's a jungle out there
I sat down and went right through the chair
I must be havin' a bad day, it's 20 past
Took my thongs off and stood on a piece of glass
Tripped over, burnt my hand on a hot plate
Knocked a schooner of beer in the DJ's crate (Oi, what are you doin', mate?)
Someone let off a firecracker and burned my hair
Stuff your hip-hop barbecue, man, I'm outta here
[Chorus: Mass MC]
I'm comin' to your barbecues, man, no more
Ain't comin' to your barbecues, man, no more
I'm comin' to your barbecues, man, no more
Don't wanna hear about that shit no more
[Verse 2: Mass MC]
Ha
On my way out there was two chicks in the front yard
Adidas trackies to hide their fat arse
I sucked my stomach in and tried to walk straight
If I don't score now, another night, I masturbate (Yeah)
I'm out of this party anyway (Shit)
My stomach hurts 'cause them steaks tasted like hay
"Hello princess, what are you doin' later on?"
"Nothin' much with you, unless you own a bong
I got closer, it's either do or die
Visions of mad sex, I saw it in her eye
One recognised me, "It's Mass MC
You bastard, you stole my purse when I was in Sydney"
I'm not Mass, my name's MC Hyjak
Both started throwin' barrages of slabs (Leave me alone, man)
[Chorus: Mass MC]
I'm comin' to your barbecues, man, no more
Don't wanna hear about that shit no more
I'm comin' to your barbecues, man, no more
Don't wanna hear about that shit no more
[Verse 3: MC Thorn]
I stepped back in at the right time, Mass had a heap of shader
Black under his eyes, upper cuts all round
Down for the count, countdown to knockin' MCs off to The Crown
I'm movin' nothin' but crowds, that's how I rock now
From the underground, I hit the surface when the pressure's on
I got mad can control (Oh shit)
I hear the sound of the police patrol, stick to what I know
Headmaster of a class of my own
I'm known to steal the show, grab the mixer and the turns
We out to burn, jumpin' back fences to exit
Your best bet is not to invite Sydney's best
We runnin' hardcore, Mass MC featuring Thorn
We ain't comin' back to your barbecue no more
Yo, get your mind off food, brother, and get your fucking fat arse over the fence
(Huh, oh man, come on, just one more sausage and steak and shit, man)
[Chorus: Mass MC]
I'm comin' to your barbecues, man, no more
I don't wanna come to your barbecues, man
[?] no more
Leave me in peace, man, [?] forget about this number, man
Ain't comin' to your barbecues, man, no more
Forget about my mobile number, don't ring me at home, man
[?] that shit no more
Every time I go to barbecues I'm always getting bad luck, man, don't ring me up. I don't wanna know about that shit no more. Forget my mobile number, man; forget it. I'm not coming to your barbecue, man