Baddie From Boksburg

In the heart of Gauteng,

On a stretch East of Jo-burg,

He was the first born Botha,

To Charl and Ben of Bryanston.

A little child, a little wild,

He raised some hell,

Fast cars, and late nights,

Had a few tall tales to tell.

The tales got taller, the nights got later,

His pops said, son you got a wild side,

Gotta sort you out, gotta get you straight.

He packed his bags, took him for a ride.

But on the way, he caught a break.

A sign…Help wanted…Apply inside.

From the army’s clinch,

He got saved by the wrench.

Wheels a turnin’, rubber’s a burnin’,

Sparks are trailin’, sirens are whalin’.

That Alpha’s flyin’, tailpipe to the sun,

He’s on the run, but still havin’ fun,

Watch out boys, here he comes.

He’s hit a hundred…still in third.

He’s the Badass from Boksburg.

That’s right. He’s the Baddie from Boksburg.

He kissed a few girls,

But fell sweet on one,

His Catherina Elizabeth,

She had him all undone.

They tied the knot, they built a life,

Raised their love to lofty heights.

Along came Gonkapiens, then Chunky,

The Botha clan was livin’ the good life.

That’s right. He’s the Baddie from Boksburg.

A breach, a break, a storm crossed the land,

Darkness spread, beyond the garden wall.

He took his fam, and he left the homeland

To break the chains of that ruddy strongman.

His friends, his fortune, he left it all,

Built a hedge and a wall,

He answered God’s call.

Wheels a turnin’, rubber’s a burnin’,

Sparks are trailin’, sirens are whalin’.

That Alpha’s flyin’, tailpipe to the sun,

He’s on the run, but still havin’ fun,

Watch out boys, here he comes.

He’s hit a hundred…still in third.

He’s the Badass from Boksburg.

That’s right. He’s the Baddie from Boksburg.

He set a new course, set to full steam,

He headed West, for the American Dream

Where he took a little and he made a lot,

And he spread it ‘round, not one forgot.

Work, work, work...a break for a braai.

Work work work...a break for a match.

“Vat hom fluffy, Vat hom fluffy!” he cried.

A dog in his lap, sweet lovey by his side.

Wheels a turnin’, rubber’s a burnin’,

Sparks are trailin’, sirens are whalin’.

That Alpha’s flyin’, tailpipe to the sun,

He’s on the run, but still havin’ fun,

Watch out boys, here he comes.

He’s hit a hundred…still in third.

He’s the Badass from Boksburg.

That’s right. He’s the Baddie from Boksburg.

Back in Boksburg proper,

You might hear a tale or two,

Like a cousin gone wrong,

Who needed a stern talkin’ to.

The baddie from Boksburg,

Did a little bit of talkin’

But cuz tried to get cute,

So he bloodied his nose,

And threw ‘em in the boot.

He’s still the baddie from Boksburg,

Yep. He’ll still sort you out quick.

Still hangin’ with his sweet Catherina,

His family’s a growin’, way down south.

His legacy grows, like weeds in summer,

An inheritance…of love, joy and wonder.

Yeah, he’s the Badass from Boksburg,

So, don’t give him a thousand words.

But, you can stick a broom up his backside,

And he’ll sweep the place til sunrise.

He’s the Badass from Boksburg.

That’s right. And don’t you forget it.