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Episode one Meet my friends By Kerri Renton Illustrated by Jason Howe In the great Australian outback Where the cowboys and cowgirls live The night
we're the Band of the 15th Mile, boys The Band of the 15th Mile Kick 'em to the plaza with a rebel song And leave 'em in a joy-strewn pile Well they come
stuntin' now, Buffet Boys, bitch We stuntin' out Drank a pint, smoked a pack Y'all can't even feel me now Couple bands, hundred bands Y'all can't even see me
raging, and all the walls are down… Another door is breaking, and all the boys around Watching her son go by, waving goodbye… It’s all by yourself you’ll
Young boy counting commas on commas on commas on commas Bitch take a trip Bahamas Bitch on my hump like llama Run up the bands to the bay Your momma some
(Curve, curve, curve) Now that hoe mad treat her like she 'ont exist uh Talk to my boy think I'm Future (I'm Future) Told him don't cuff she belong
count up) Rubber band, duffle bag, count up the money (Count it up) Hundred bands, double up, count up the money (Woo, count it up) Fours in the double
of money. Like I say ol' Jack Johnson he was a pugilist, He was a pugilist by preference and by profession And one day ol' Jack came walkin' on down by
we'll be there soon Yeah The gang we is some goons Dropping bodies by the moon Yeah We throwing bands like running man Do a little dance and you think
We run it up (Aye) I never have enough Boy you talking smack Get your whip And pull up I've been running up a check Man I'll buy the whole store Big
I gave yo this pussy You can stop rockin them bands you know This boy gotta hit I just can't give you the keys to the Crib and the bands you know
bitch got them bands No need for no clock she eye ball them grams Perk tens molly coke and the xans Cook a whole chicken in a frying pan She keep that
karats, boy the ice sick Ten bands on a band for some light shit Sittin in that kitchen What I hit the pints with I'm so motherfuckin' high, i'm a flight
You drivin' slow You ain't gon' win You are not straight You from the bend Now hold up wait I cannot send I gotta' go I got the plan I get the Bands
Yeah Yeah You Know I be walking with bands I'm dripping all over the floor man You run up I'm getting you slammed Pick him bag him up, I ain't
When you lost in a matrice Take a look at your space Look Back I'm here standing with the band I'll hit you with my 55 plans Boy we on your convoy
a damn about whatever you sayin' (Ey ey) The more I'm getting bigger is the more that you hatin' (Ey ey) I'm in it for the bands I don't care about
guessed it! God done over by customs, the pair of us, didn't we? So there we are standing there, "Hello hello hello! What you been up to, you naughty boys
I get the fifty's the hunninds keep coming Niggas be talking bout smoke like they want it They not in a band, but my niggas be drumming That boy got
Lacoste boy (Yeah this shit bout to go up) I got bands in my (Uh huh) Dance Shawty pop it do a dance on my (Uh huh) Imma lost boy (Lost boy) Fuck
Look at them lurking Funny boys them Funny boys them Funny boys them Look at them lurking Funny boys them hoping Bad bitches them twerkin 100 bands
don't need gram for the flex look I just need bands for the nest if I don't get it still blessed No y'all don't get it man I'm rich in love Ain't faded by
Coming home, iým on time Been gone such a long time Goodbye traveling So long to the boys in the band Goodbye traveling So long to the boys in
Ay yo, vert, you up Okay, chea Might take a trip out to London Might take a trip to Japan, huh He said that he was gon' run up, huh That little Boy
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