Lyrics

Kebab Kella, royal bomber, the pharaoh supreme,
Opened up Shawarma Land, livin' the dream.
But his rival's a pickle man, from New York, it's clear,
Luke Tutas with his cans, sellin' pickles near!

(Verse 1: KSI)
Yo, Kebab Kella, man, he's got the crown,
Pharaoh of Shawarma, wearin' the gown.
But his empire's shaky, cause there's one dude in town,
Luke Tutas, pickle man, bringin' it down.

He's got his cart in the alley, with pickles in hand,
Selling outta garbage cans, all across the land.
Kella's royal bomber, but he’s feelin' the heat,
Luke’s pickles in the streets, ain't that hard to beat!

(Bridge: KSI)
Oi, it's the Kebab Kella, on the throne, don't fall,
But Luke Tutas got the pickle game, standin' tall!
Kebab land's grand, but his rival's on the call,
Pickles in the alley, but Kella's standin' tall!

(Chorus)
Kebab Kella, royal bomber, the pharaoh supreme,
Opened up Shawarma Land, livin' the dream.
But his rival's a pickle man, from New York, it's clear,
Luke Tutas with his cans, sellin' pickles near!

(Verse 2: The Irish Lad)
Now I’m the Irish lad, bringin’ spice to the mix,
Me and Kella got the shawarma, we got all the fix!
But Luke Tutas from Brooklyn, now that's a surprise,
Pickles in the garbage can, right before your eyes!

Kebab Kella, the grandest of 'em all,
But Luke’s street game? Man, it’s standing tall.
From the pyramids to New York, they got beef, no cap,
It’s shawarma vs. pickle, in this crazy rap!

(Bridge: The Irish Lad)
Kebab Kella’s on the rise, he’s a pharaoh with style,
But Luke Tutas in the alley, ain't he got the guile?
Pickles in the can, yet he’s breakin’ the mile,
Kella needs a move to make his empire worthwhile!

(Chorus)
Kebab Kella, royal bomber, the pharaoh supreme,
Opened up Shawarma Land, livin' the dream.
But his rival's a pickle man, from New York, it's clear,
Luke Tutas with his cans, sellin' pickles near!

(Outro: KSI + The Irish Lad)
KSI:
Yo, Kebab Kella, gotta find a way to win,
Luke Tutas on the streets, but he ain't got the spin.
Shawarma land’s grand, we ain't lettin' it fall,
With the royal bomber, man, we’ll be back on the ball!

The Irish Lad:
Let’s spice up this city, Shawarma in hand,
Kella’s the king, and he’s takin' command!
So forget about pickles, we’re the real jam,
From Egypt to New York, we rise like a lamb!

(Chorus)
Kebab Kella, royal bomber, the pharaoh supreme,
Opened up Shawarma Land, livin' the dream.
But his rival's a pickle man, from New York, it's clear,
Luke Tutas with his cans, sellin' pickles near!

(Outro)
Yeah, Kebab Kella, Shawarma King,
Luke Tutas, pickle man, what a crazy thing!
From Egypt to the Bronx, it’s a royal clash,
But Kella’s gonna win with that Shawarma flash!