waistcoat! british man in america - ryan mcgregor lyrics
what’s up motherf*ckers?
british man in america homies
you *rs*holes drive on the wrong side of the road
you refrigerate your eggs
what the f*ck is wrong with you american b*st*rds?
i’m a rich british *rs* in hollywood
out of touch?
no bl**dy good
i blow my money at gucci on useless sh*t
abs like art
six pack fit
la lasses wear too much slap
f*ck sephora
you look like cr*p
la lads are too dressed down
f*ck old navy
i ain’t no clown
a tourist bloke said today
hey local
is beverly drive this way?
i said f*ck you
i wore a waistcoat to ihop
yankee no
i’m a man of style
burberry tie
socks argyle
f*ck fake t**th
crooked smile
10,000 pounds in my pocket
they stole my car
i forgot to lock it
aston martin
i can buy another
bad rap songs made me rich motherf*cker
get laid as i drink earl grey
i’m hardcore
drink tea all day
i say yes
you say yeah
i say no
you say nah
don’t get no sun
skin like a ghost
la people tan like toast
bob barker called
he wants his look back
i rap hip hop
but never sold crack
i don’t do drugs
i only drink
i make fresh juice at the sink
weed is something you find by flowers
pesticides remove weeds in hours
i’m british and read books and sh*t
you could say i love english lit
shakespeare, d*ckens, tolkien, dahl
i read my books at the mall
my yankee girlfriend eats whitefish salad
she wants me to sing a f*cking ballad
i’m like no b*tch
i’m a f*cking rebel
turn up the bass
turn down the treble
i order fish and chips
and your chips are crisps
my favourite soup is tomato bisque
f*cking baked beans at breakfast
get p*ssed at pubs
get p*ssed at pubs
my ex gave david beckham a back rub
broke up with that b*tch
broke up with that b*tch
american football is for little girls
sh*t nfl blokes wear tights for ballet twirls
real men watch manchester city
and cry when goals fail
and sh*t gets gritty
your remake of the office sucked major b*lls
your nba stars are too f*cking tall
i eat bangers and mash
so rich i always pay in cash
mortgage rates are too high
american markets might crash
when i take off my pants
i mean undies not trousers
and i take off both really fast
don’t want no trouble with bobbies
that’s why i don’t buy crack
i use a fork and knife
my own manners are on track
f*ck american cider
where’s the alcohol b*tch?
got tired of that sh*t really quick
bought new clothes today after breakfast
rodeo drive
the he b*tch salesman was like
can i show you these nike suburbia dad clothes in your size?
i said f*ck you
i wore a waistcoat to ihop
gah
f*cking pleb
i’m british
i don’t dress down in all this sh*t that you’re selling
gah
what is the matter with you?
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