BSA Bad Boyz, BSA Bad Boyz,
Whatcha gonna do when the tin’s shot through?
BSA Bad Boyz, BSA Bad Boyz,
Whatcha gonna do when the groups come true?
Cruisin’ down the range with the bolt slid back,
Pellets in the pouch and the targets stacked.
Nice tight group and the trigger breaks clean,
Smoother than your mate’s pre-charged machine.
BSA Bad Boyz, BSA Bad Boyz,
Chrono reading sweet — yeah the power’s poise.
From the springer snap to the PCP noise,
We’re stackin’ them holes like organised toys.
Scope dialled in and the wind’s just right,
Clippin’ little spinners left and right.
Rats hear the click and they freeze, no choice —
There’s no place to hide from the BSA Boyz.
BSA Bad Boyz, BSA Bad Boyz,
What you gonna say when the groups make noise?
One ragged hole and a smug little grin.