Verse 1 Rolling down a country lane in an old banger, Grandad Albert's at the wheel, he's no stranger, With his mate Bill, in a Jag that's lagging, Heading to their plot, the journey's dragging. Verse 2 Got a stick of sausage, a bottle of Madeira, These old gardeners driving, they couldn't be clearer, But from around the bend, a jeep's on the attack, Four blokes jump out, and they're all on crack. Verse 3 They yell, "Oi, grandads, you lost your mind?" "Shift your scrap heap, you're blocking our grind!" Albert checks 'em out, sees they're not soft, He pulls out his shotgun, says, "Let's sort this lot." Chorus Shotgun blast at the Cruiser, bang bang! Pellets flying, hear that clang clang! Knock 'em down, they hit the ground, bang bang! Who's the loser? Not us, man, bang bang! Verse 4 Albert's seen it all, on some TV show, Not in Chicago, but here, you know, Al Capone's got nothing on this scene, This ain't the '30s, but 2009's been mean. Verse 5 Tyres pop, windows shatter, it's a mess, Cruiser like a sieve, no less, Albert fires, says, "No way, mate!" Drunk lads fall, they're in a state. Verse 6 They're running scared, like they're on the run, Bill's handing out the ammo, having fun, Albert's like Rambo, with each shot he's precise, Old school justice, they pay the price. Chorus Shotgun blast at the Cruiser, bang bang! Pellets flying, hear that clang clang! Knock 'em down, they hit the ground, bang bang! Who's the loser? Not us, man, bang bang! Outro With the shotgun aimed at the Cruiser, bang! Pellets through the metal, hear that clang! Who's the loser now, who's the king? Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
