Skiving by Tenbag Banditz Lyrics
Kicking back, on Sundays with my brother man
We bell a bredda who delivers loads of potent ganj
We start by picking instrumentals getting mental use of pen fulfilled
To meditate we tend to drink a can, a can of Kestrel
Assess you, but I gave it away when I met you
Got a babe in the making; the man that she'd make you
Now she's met me, I'm Jet Li
Man I roll with the Bangladeshis
Better get burn when the bank is empty
She'd make peace, I'm deaf see
It's Sunday on a settee, with my brother getting messy
I will watch a bit of telly and I'll take a couple wetties
Wash it down with bevvies, now he's claiming that he's Jet Li
Always rough and ready, well, girl now look I'm Freddy
Krueger the loser, mic abuser, might run through ya
My computer got a virus, too much venom stored inside it
When I'm mashed I feel enlightened
Find me in a dark asylum serenading sounds of silence
Monday morning and I'm chilling with my brother man
We both be skiving off of work, decide to make a jam
We smoke a spliff or two and laugh and joke and fuck around
And then we come and stomp it man, like fucking ThunderCats
Fucking around and the mic is melted
I will abide by the rules of the pelvis
I only joke, I tell this
Fuck you eh boy, allow it
Bounce to the beat when we really get about this, bandito on the mic don't doubt it
Yo, Monday morning, feeling rough
I'm feeling like a [?]
So I fucking phone my bruv, and ask him could he bring me bud
When he arrives my face lights up, bag of cheese and sacks of pieces
All the planet's bloody needs [?] fuckery
Like fuck ya G, why ain't she in love with me?
Maybe the way that I behave, but I won't change, I'm sorry babe
I like to blaze, I like the cane, at least our Li's the fucking same
We do it every fucking day
We bell a bredda who delivers loads of potent ganj
We start by picking instrumentals getting mental use of pen fulfilled
To meditate we tend to drink a can, a can of Kestrel
Assess you, but I gave it away when I met you
Got a babe in the making; the man that she'd make you
Now she's met me, I'm Jet Li
Man I roll with the Bangladeshis
Better get burn when the bank is empty
She'd make peace, I'm deaf see
It's Sunday on a settee, with my brother getting messy
I will watch a bit of telly and I'll take a couple wetties
Wash it down with bevvies, now he's claiming that he's Jet Li
Always rough and ready, well, girl now look I'm Freddy
Krueger the loser, mic abuser, might run through ya
My computer got a virus, too much venom stored inside it
When I'm mashed I feel enlightened
Find me in a dark asylum serenading sounds of silence
Monday morning and I'm chilling with my brother man
We both be skiving off of work, decide to make a jam
We smoke a spliff or two and laugh and joke and fuck around
And then we come and stomp it man, like fucking ThunderCats
Fucking around and the mic is melted
I will abide by the rules of the pelvis
I only joke, I tell this
Fuck you eh boy, allow it
Bounce to the beat when we really get about this, bandito on the mic don't doubt it
Yo, Monday morning, feeling rough
I'm feeling like a [?]
So I fucking phone my bruv, and ask him could he bring me bud
When he arrives my face lights up, bag of cheese and sacks of pieces
All the planet's bloody needs [?] fuckery
Like fuck ya G, why ain't she in love with me?
Maybe the way that I behave, but I won't change, I'm sorry babe
I like to blaze, I like the cane, at least our Li's the fucking same
We do it every fucking day