Goldie Lookin Chain - MY MOMMA lyrics

My momma’s harder than a bag if fucking nails
The hardest fucking mother in
The whole of South Wales
You can’t take my pocket money
Or my last Malteser
Cause my mum will beat your ass
When she next sees ya
A mean clean mother when she’s on a Dyson
And she’ll bite your ear off like Mike Tyson
If you mess with me or
My sisters or my brothers
Yours gonna get a visit late
At night from my mother

Heres a little story about a cart like me
A kid punched me in nursery
Told my mum coz that’s the rules
She gripped his father by the family jewels
Round kicked his mother at the gates
She needs stitches and metal plates
She battered the police when they turned up
Coz with my mother you don’t fuck

Yo my mother my mother my mother my mother
My mother my mother talking about my mother

Don’t get out of line
Parking at parking spaces
Any queue jumpers she smashes in their faces
I never got bullied when
I was at comprehensive
My mother came down and skewered
The bullies on the fences
Don’t step to me when you fucking want some
My mother’s got a death
With like Charley Bronson
I think I should say I mean
I think I should boast
My mother’s got respect from close to close

I bought my mum flowers and TV quick
But let me tell you she don’t take shit
She’e quite strict I got to admit
And you better run if she has a fit
So let me just lay it on the table
She’s psychotic and quite unstable
Don’t get me wrong she’s not that bad
Except last week when she stabbed my dad

Yo my mother my mother my mother my mother
My mother my mother talking about my mother

My momma got a nice range of cake
Don’t buy snickers gets a cheap Aldi fake
I never leave the seat wet
Coz the toilet’s always clean
Got the best three piece suite I’ve ever see
I bet you think I’m gonna rap
About her in a fight
But the fact of the matter
Is she’s actually polite
She don’t take drugs apart
From blood pressure pills
And watches Antiques Roadshow when
She’s looking for thrills

Yo I got something to say
That I got a crazy mother
From a round the way
If there’s a book club yo she’s in it
And she can clean a room
In less than a minute
With aright left right left she’s ruthless
She wears dentures coz she’s toothless
My mother she’s loved by my mateys
She had a wicked perm in the eighties
She loves playing bridge and going to choir
I’ll probably find her dead one
Day by the fire
At eleven am she’s still in her pyjamas
She loves watching Countdown
And costume dramas
In the afternoon she likes to take a nap
But don’t mess with my mam coz
She don’t take no crap

Seriously she’s had two hip replacements
She don’t like spicy food but
She does like museums

Now she’s the type of mother
That don’t drive fast
She likes to talk about the weather forecast
M U M is the way that we are spelling
Don’t mess with us or we’ll be telling

Mumma Mumma thats’s who we’re telling
Mess with my mother your
Gonna pay the penalty
Mumma Mumma thats’s who we’re telling
She can bake a cake and
She doesn’t need a recipe

My mother’s wicked on mother’s day my
Mother is wicked on birthdays
She’s wicked on a Tuesday my
Mother is wicked on, on Christmas
My mother is wicked on new years eve
My mother is wicked on any day of the week
And you can ask her is she wicked
And she’ll say yeah she’s wicked
Coz that’s what it is mate
Sometimes I give my mother like
A hug and a kiss
Like all holding squeezing her and all love
My mum’s lush and when she’s bit older I
Recon she could have a purple rinse
Or a blur rinse like a proper mother
Don’t fuck with her coz she will
Fuck you up ani’t it