Keyboard Gangsta

Yo, here comes jimmy with his internet crew,

Talking 'bout shootings like he’s got something to prove.

“Bang bang, I’ll get you!” — bro,

calm yourself down, You’re typing from your bedroom in a dressing gown.

Gangsta lifestyle? Nah, you're living a lie,

The only shots you're firing are shots of your Wi-Fi.

So keep typing, tough guy,

keep playing pretend, Your gangster career ends when your screen time ends.

(yeah, ends!)

Claims he’s a gangster,

says he’s running the streets,

But the only thing he’s running is his Wi-Fi on repeat.

Talking real tough with his profile picture mean,

Mum shouts from downstairs: “Your dinner’s getting cold,

Jim” Keyboard killer, internet thug,

Threatening everybody while he’s sitting on the rug.

“Got a weapon!” — mate,

what have you got?

A butter knife from the kitchen and a Tesco bag of snacks?

He says, “I’ll shoot you,” trying to sound insane,

Then his broadband cuts out and he starts crying in pain. (hahaha!)

Big bad gangster with his anonymous account,

Talking like the whole damn city needs to watch out.

But if somebody rings the doorbell,

suddenly he’s shy— “Mum,

can you get that?

I don't wanna go outside.” (shhh)

Gangsta lifestyle?

Nah, you're living a lie,

The only shots you're firing are shots of your Wi-Fi.

So keep typing, tough guy,

keep playing pretend, Your gangster career ends when your screen time ends.

You’re not Scarface, mate,

you're barely a threat— You're a Facebook notification people haven't blocked yet.