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lyrics

Incoming like a bomb to a town near you
We’re gonna get your mom and drown her in a stew
I’m a cannibal with mandibles thinking in diagonals
Don’t cage me like an animal I’ll bite through all your manacles
Anything that’s tangible I consider valuable
I’m radical, I’m slick, I’m a random encounter
I click with the sickness like a Geiger counter
My donkow kicks us when I try to mount her
I’m a sprinter, a splinter, a nuclear winter
I got more jams than a pre-war printer

We are called the Nasty Bastards
We play the raiding game
I thought we were the Spittle Spitters?
Please stop changing the name

I'm Mr Lovely - it’s very nice to meet you
Don't get on my bad side cos then I'll have to eat you
Don't be fooled by my sophisticated rhymes
Er blah de bloo bloo committed lots of crimes
We ravage, we pillage, we’re coming to your village
We’re gonna get all up in your grillage
Grinning like a Cheshire, professor of leisure
I dress to impress I use imperial leather
I'm only here because of peer pressure
I can spit rhymes like MC Escher

We are called the Kinky Riders
we’ve changed our name again
No, we’re called the Devil’s Spiders
We’re keeping it the same

Got a gun in my pocket and a knife in my belt
I can fart like a rocket and make your eyes melt
Cos I'm a mutant bruiser muscles like an ox
A polluting cruiser who’s spreading the pox
I’ve scale on my skin I’ve a tail on my chin
A dorsal fin and don’t mention within
Stomach of steel, but I’m real and I feel
Like a meal of seal or veal would appeal
That’s the deal or maybe you’d be ideal
An ordeal so unreal with my hands on the wheel

We’re now called the Bloodless Crisps
But they’re already a gang
Oh. So we’re going to have to change it
I suggest The Boomerangs?

We’re the baddest motherfuckers from shore to shore
Ain’t that the truth - no wait - I’m not sure
I’m a bandit - I want a lick of all your beans
Better hand it over or we’ll stick you in the spleens
Don’t wanna complicate or irradiate
I can see you ain’t an inebriate
With your beans on my plate - you’re too late - those I ate
that’s my trait - contemplate - that if you or your mates
keep on spitting complaints you should anticipate:
I’ll be forced on a course that you can’t mitigate

Let’s be called the Spittle Slicers
No, that’s a stupid name
How about the Poison Vipers?
That’s also pretty lame

I’m a sniper: I always hit my mark
I can shoot the beak off a motherfucking hawk
I’ll loot your street - or another - in the dark
I’ll shoot your feet so you dance around the park
It’ll suit the beat this emancipating lark
This fruit is sweet, an irrelevant remark
I’m a raider but - I get the weekends off
Where I like to bake cakes which then I scoff
I’m a flake with a rake when I try to play golf
With my mates they were great - the late Shane and Goff

We are back to Nasty Bastards
But we’ll probably change it again
When we finally settle on one
We’re going to shoot to fame

We’re from the streets but the fame won’t change us
Our mums are sweet but we’re plain outrageous
Don’t need the beans or the witches or the power
We’re quite obscene - all our riches we devour
We promote hygiene - it enriches and empowers
Gotta keep it clean or it itches in the shower
We’re relentless, unstoppable, probably improbable
Demented, unlovable, poppin' all your probables
Think you’ve seen it all with the other raider gangs?
We are the meanest of the lot since before the big bangs

credits

from I Suppose You Could Call It Music - The Gamma Radio Album, released April 6, 2020
Words by Rob Harrison and Paul Chetty
Music by Rob Harrison

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Gamma Radio Swansea, UK

Gamma Radio is a Post Nuclear Comedy podcast set in the ruins of Great Britland. These post apocalyptians are a musical bunch, and here we display their finest wares.

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