Bronx In A Six Lyrics - Singles - Sleaford Mods

Bronx in six 

Bronx in six 

He never gave any refunds to his mates 

Now he wonders why he sits in big house all on his own 

With all his plastic and nice painted plates 

Bronx in a six, lets do a one skinner you ten bob 

Laughing me head off at the old cows that grazed on grass from the boom 

It soon turned its jet on ya face and boom 

Burnt you Puff Daddy, it maced ya bastards 

Good, I fuckin' laugh like fuck at ya wannabe labels, shoots on location 

Cut blokes in stables ra, ra, ra 

All ya Chiney wine tasters die in boxes like the rest of us wasters 

Bastard, I fucking tie ya veins round ya Vans limited edition 

Stitched tongues, bond street like the Von Bondies 

He got slapped up right, I wouldn't fuck about with Jack White 

You're a jammy slug, missed the salt 

A twat with nine lives 

You're a lucky little tit cake die, die, die 

Bronx in a six 

A single skinner, how's tricks? 

Bronx in a six 

A single skinner, how's tricks? 

Related 

18 Non-Traditional Yet Perfect Wedding Songs 

9 Misheard Christmas Carol Lyrics 

20 Classic Christmas Lyrics to Celebrate The Holiday Season 

I couldn't give a fucking shit what you think about me, cunt 

What ya saying now where's ya wife? ya kids? ya house? 

You ain't got none you silly billy 

All gone quiet on the wanker front 

Gary Coopers on the clue cause he stuck to his guns 

Radio edit, oh its so nice 

Lauren Laverne keeps playing tumbling dice 

Just like you with ya Maharishi shoulder bag 

Walking the strip like you fucking own the path 

You wonder why you got no mates? 

You pretend to be proud of ya own culture 

Whilst simultaneously not giving two fucks about ya own culture 

What culture? fuck culture, the blueprint for all control 

On the dole, money monk, the monastery's faint flicks of reference 

Paint a vague idea, a pound in the fruity 

Fuck lolly on that scale you cunt, ya mugged 

The money monks saying its prays on bank books 

Photos 

Bronx in a six 

A single skinner how's tricks 

Bronx in a six 

A single skinner how's tricks 

I knocked ya shit vase over one night 

I think you was boring women, you slag off about some buying trip to Hanover, alright 

Lobbing out the posh nuts and fucking weird fruit as some appetizer 

Clean white tiles, a view to the garden, a room with a poo 

I nicked all ya takings and ya fucking mates coke too 

Bringing women 'round then bragging about the conquest 

With ya pot belly Helmut Lang white vest 

Autumn, winter 2002 mind fest 

Bronx in a six 

A single skinner, how's tricks? 

Bronx in a six 

A single skinner, how's tricks? 

Bronx in a six 

A single skinner, how's tricks? 

Bronx in a six 

A single skinner, how's tricks?