Jack Parow - Byellville lyrics

Jack parrow back for another fokken piss take Keep your eyes open of jy mag my fokken mis kyk Take your baby for a chips en fokken vis date Blow up the door like im made for bledy buskruit Almal is like, fokkit parrow is just great b**hes are so slick you could swear its fokken mince mate Die fokken woorde van die straathoek renegade So high energy i piss fokken energade Im here to rap, not to make fokkin movies Im so next level mah fokkin groupies have groupies So what you gonna do when jou moeder fokkin boat sells All these rappers hangin on jack parrow's coattails Im buying entjies with mah piggy bank cents I moved back to my mom coz i can't pay mah rent Playing real life risk, conquering country for country One for one untill the next on wants me 2x Uh, die fokkin byelville sh** Uh, laat jou bouder skud Uh, jy fokkin hou van dit Uh, fokkin holy sh** Jou 'kay you moerfokker Round 2, FIGHT Ek's wound too tight Im fokkin bound to bite sh** sounds just right Spoeg kak-kak tight So luister mooi en fokkin walk towards the white light Die rapper uit die bosse lanks die N1 highway Almal fokkin like my, nou dat ek 'ie mic kry By the way, there's nowhere to hide away Ek spoeg fokkin yster, jou kak kan fokkin? gay Om long vir long en lom dom poms Pom om en om met vok om soms Fok wies die jong fokkin nuus vou gom So pop that fokkin CD in jou CDROM UH, JOOOUU ek's fokkin fly like batman Rap so siek,moet jot ek gaan vir 'n CAT scan? Quick, vinnig, hardloop to the JackVan Rap so tight you could swear i was a black man 2x Uh, die fokkin byelville sh** Uh, laat jou bouder skut Uh, jy fokkin hou van dit Uh, fokkin holy sh** Check, i fokkin grew up in 'n kak plek Raised on pap en WWF Called kak kommen en kak zef Kak by jou kak-bos, fokkof jy's kak drek Change in mah pocket, head full a jokes So sunday took mah girl to the spur vir 'n coke-float No money for a car, sy moes op my fiets chill No money for steak or cheese in our schnitzels What's that called, i think cordon bleu We roll corduroy pants en gelled up hair Stone cold shirts and orange bomber jackets Tape walkmens en pick 'n Pay Packets I come from a town where no one's fokkin from A little bit a and *POEF* then their gone But im byelville bru, CY till i die So come down to byelville en fokkin C Y 2x Uh, die fokkin byelville sh** Uh, laat jou bouder skut Uh, jy fokkin hou van dit Uh, fokkin holy sh**