• Tag Archives Part Three
  • Bashy – Cannon Lyrics

    (Ragz2Richez Bitch!)

    You know me, it’s Bashy man
    You won’t see me in Red Monkeys man
    I’d rather buy a thousand mixtapes yeah
    [Verse 1]

    The names Ash but it’s Bash to you faggots
    In Green mans got guns bigger than a (Cannon)
    And the youngers are nutters, a bunch of mischievous fuckers who would cut you in your adams
    I won’t stop until I’m bading just like the Adams
    Hustling, getting my bank balance up per annum
    Guns man doe, pull ’em out for fashion they bang ’em
    And when the jakes come, act like nothing happened
    But out to the tugs in the slammer
    Let me take the time to say, free my nigga Gangbanga Stana
    Who? Gangbanga Stana yes blood, he reps his manor
    He’s a hard face, Scarface black Montana
    Anyway back to the manor, where North West ain’t in a passer passer
    Quick to tell ya pussy, know yourself guns go bracka bracka
    I’m a stacker, stacker you slacker, slacker
    Plus it look like a bunny nyam your chain cause it’s lacking carrots
    And girls feel my swagger from back in the day
    When I dropped the 1-10’s with Dolce & Gabbana
    Fresh off the hanger but now I want the Jacobs, I ain’t talking crackers
    Me work for the crackers? Are you fucking crackers?
    And girls love my mixtapes, I’m flattered
    And guys tell me when they see me, I’m getting battered huhh
    Stay there with your little daggers, got the ting here
    So like the Rock says, ‘It doesn’t matter!’
    Cause you need to be, quick to scare me
    But I’ll fly like (???)
    Punch your claat, take the shank and slice you like salami
    Better kill me if you harm me, I’m not inna that malarky
    Fuck swimming with the fishes, you’ll be drowning where the sharks be
    Fuck your Mr. Miyagi karate, don’t make me laughy
    Grab you by the boat, stab you in the throat with the car key
    Yeah I’m with my army, sit back and enjoy your Bacardi
    Don’t make us spoil the party, you punani
    My boys are animals, no safaris
    No games, no Atari’s
    No jokes like Cat and Arby
    Niggas will snatch your Carti, advertise the product like ‘Sace, Sace’
    Auction it off to the highest bidder
    I roll with couple killers, who will run in your yard and Meet the Parents like Ben Stiller
    You know them fuckrie Yardies
    Anyway, look I drop Armani and Cavalli, smell of Dreamer by Versace
    On the road I’m stacking hard P’s, hardly got the time for barneys
    (???) and (???) meeting all these ladidadi’s and arty fartys like ‘Kiss, kiss, Ashley, Ashley’
    Movie directors like cast me, cast me
    I’ll act in your trilogy, from Part One right through to Part Three
    Not racist but fuck the Nazi’s, big up Idi Amin
    This is London, Kensal Rise bitch this ain’t Marcy
    Niggas move the queues of the Charlie, making profit off the Barley
    Won’t stop ’til my pockets are fatter than MC Narstie

    [Outro – talking]

    Shut up, shut up, shut up
    Yo, don’t ya know
    I said them tings go bracka, bracka
    You know them tings go bracka, bracka
    Hmmm.. Oiiii, nahhhh