The British are Mournin’ Lyrics – Loser Club
Singer: Loser Club
Title: The British are Mournin’
Oh my god, the Queen is f#cking dead
She left in the morning she forgot to give me head (Okay)
b#tches they be British and the Queen has got the bread (Stacks!)
My love is for the Queen and her #ssh#l# I will spread (Wide open!)
Rest in peace The Queen, I really miss that damn b#tch, uh
Now we got King Charles III, his brother touches kids, uh (Okay)
King ain’t payin’ tax, so he made some stacks, and dollars and cheques b#tch
Ain’t poppin’ no percs with The Queen anymore, cause that b#tch so dead, so breathlеss
When the Queen dropped dеad, now the King got bread
And he got some hookers, that’s money, well spent
But he never got a boner, never make a b#tch a moaner
Now he lookin’ like a yoghurt with that white #ss head
Like please b#tch, can we get Lizzy back
Aw, geez b#tch, let ya hear this feedback
Suck deez b#tch, let ya know, glizzy sag
Would you f#ck the Queen? Necrophiliac
Cryin cryin, the Queen is dyin’ and
She flyin’ high, teardrops in my eyes
Eyes pouring mourning got me screaming why
Like Jesus, God why did lizzy die?
Like holy f#cking sh#t the f#cking Queen is f#cking dead b#tch
Dropped dead in the night, big surprise, unexpected
Haven’t stopped crying, gonna chew on some lead b#tch
No top in the morning, not writing no cheques sh#t
Oh my god, the Queen is f#cking dead
She left in the morning she forgot to give me head (Okay)
b#tches they be British and the Queen has got the bread (Stacks!)
My love is for the Queen and her #ssh#l# I will spread (Wide open!)
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Rest in peace The Queen, I really miss that damn b#tch, uh
Now we got King Charles III, his brother touches kids, uh (Okay)
King ain’t payin’ tax, so he made some stacks, and dollars and cheques b#tch
Ain’t poppin’ no percs with The Queen anymore, cause that b#tch so dead, so breathless
So breathless, perplexed b#tch
Boy charles is next sh#t, code red b#tch
And his brother has a full blow piss fetish
When he has a shower it’s golden okay
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7
Man I miss the Queen, that b#tch in heaven
If heaven was under, 6ft exactly
Zeus rains his thunder, while I hit her back cheeks
Why is the Queen f#ckin’ dead b#tch, uh
No top in the mournin’, no head sh#t, uh
Legs like fire, b#tch I’ll spread this, uh
And my hands around throat, like necklace, uh
b#tch gonna drop lots, and I’ll pop rocks
Gettin’ top in the drop top, then the bop stops
Cause the Queen f#ckin’ died, man that b#tch was my bride
But I still f#ckin’ hit, that’s a b#tch creampied
Oh my god, the Queen is f#cking dead
She left in the morning she forgot to give me head
b#tches they be British and the Queen has got the bread
My love is for the Queen and her #ssh#l# I will spread
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Lyrics Loser Club – The British are Mournin’
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