I'd prefer an homage to that true musical great, Ini Kamoze:
Naa, na-na-na-naa, na-na-na-naa, na-na-naa na-na-naa.
Na-na-na-naa (kick it)...
Downing; da wing-master, (Murderer!)
him no lyrical gangster. (Murderer!)
Pick up the ball 'n' he run past ya. (Murderer!)
We love him like that. (Murderer!)
No, no, he won't die.
Yes, down wings; he fly.
Anyone test will hear the Holte Enders sing.
DJ Fantastico
him know what yo' don't know.
Touch the ball and go; uh-oh!
Ch-ch-chang-chang...
Downing; da wing-master, (Murderer!)
him no lyrical gangster. (Murderer!)
Excuse me, you defender. (Murderer!)
We love him like that. (Murderer!)
Extraordinary,
juice like To-ny Daley;
pace to burn baby, all of the time.
Cut to cross; shazam!
In the goal, he slam!
He juggle the ball, I say every time.
Downing; da wing-master, (Murderer!)
him no lyrical gangster. (Murderer!)
Dial emergency number! (Murderer!)
We love him like that. (Murderer!)
Runs like a jackrabbit
finish in front of it.
On the night he play, that's it; understand.
Him the daddy of the mack daddy.
His left peg's gold, baby.
Ain't no homey gonna stop him, top celebrity man.
Downing; da wing-master, (Murderer!)
him no lyrical gangster. (Murderer!)
Him piss all over Lee Bowyer. (Murderer!)
We love him like that. (Murderer!)
Downing; da wing-master!
Him no lyrical gangster!
And your goal it be in danger!
We love him like that!
Lol truly awesome!