Kevin Bloody Wilson Hey Gmh Lyrics

Little while back I got thinking don’t use the ute much
anymore
Should retire the old girl gracefully, I’d look beaut
in a new Commodore
They told me it’d take three weeks, three weeks, pigs
f*ckin’ arse
Cause as soon as I signed the dotted line, the f*ckin’
bullshit started

Hey GMH you cunts. Where’s me f*ckin’ car
You told me it’d take three weeks, it’s been three
f*ckin’ months so far
I could’ve crocheted a f*ckin’ Commodore by the time
you cunts got started
GMH you cunts where’s me f*ckin’ car

If I’d wanted to listen to bullshit
I woulda’ played one of me own CD’s
And I could’ve fertalized the f*ckin’ Nullabour
With the crap you’ve fed to me
And as far as f*ckin’ excuses, mate I’m a married drunk
I tell lies for a livin’, so don’t practice on me ya
cunt

Hey GMH you cunts. Where’s me f*ckin’ car
You told me it’d take three weeks, it’s been three
f*ckin’ months so far I could’ve crocheted a f*ckin’ commodore by the time
you cunts got started
GMH you cunts where’s me f*ckin’ car

Next time I come to see you, I’m gonna bring me mongrel
kids
And let’m loose in your f*ckin’ showroom while I drink
ya f*ckin’ piss
And when the cops com’n round up my mob and sling us
out the f*ckin’ door
I’ll go and do what I should’ve done, I’ll go and buy a
f*ckin’ Ford

Not happy mate

Hey GMH you cunts. Where’s me f*ckin’ car
You told me it’d take three weeks, it’s been three
f*ckin’ months so far
I could’ve crocheted a f*ckin’ commodore by the time
you cunts got off your arse
GMH you cunts where’s me f*ckin’ car

I’ll dob you in ya cunts, I’ll tell John Laws on you
He’ll kick the f*ck out of you
I saw GMH suck Kevvys cock.

Not happy Mate