Sergeant Pritchard’s lonely heart club band

Yo, I’m a Lebanese don, French-teachin’ beast, Spittin’ verbs for a livin’, my game’s never ceased, Life’s sorted, bruv, proper mint, no cap, Hundred grand in the bag, four days, that’s a wrap, Easy street, fam, August, July, I’m blessed, Vacay on lock, mate, I’m set, no stress. Canada’s my turf, shit’s sweet up here, Got a crib, no drama, just vibes, crystal clear, No kids in the mix, though, that’s the sting, Empty nest, fam, no heirs to the king. Paycheck? Don’t sweat it, I’m good, I’m straight, Fifty on the clock, still holdin’ my weight, Mortgage? Ghosted that sit long ago, Now I’m thumb-twiddlin’, nowhere to go, No sprogs to raise, yeah, it bites, innit, Said it before, fam, what’s the fix? Shit. Wife’s a brick wall, fucking’ frigid, no lie, Cold as ice, mate, I’m barely gettin’ by, Still, I keep it chill, motto’s real tight— Sleep sound, don’t clown, no evil in sight, Fuck the big questions, I ain’t losin’ my head, “What’s the point?” Who cares? I’m alive, not dead, French in Canada? Bruv, they don’t give a toss, Hang myself for that? Nah, that’s a loss. I’m jabbed to the max, health’s on lock, no fear, Swine flu, Zika, Covid, ticks in my ear, Cholera, malaria, typhoid, I’m clean, Vaginal cancer? Mate, that’s obscene, Won’t step out ‘less insurance got my back, Bus stop trek’s a risk, that’s a fact, STD paranoia’s got me wired, no slack, But that edge keeps the fire in my sack. Check it—I’m sharp, details on blast, Condom*’s tight like fibre optic, built to last, High-speed bandwidth, safe as fuck fam, Nerves shot to shit*, but I still got a plan, Mission one, top tier, no debate, Find a sexy* bird, but keep it digi, mate, Cloud server’s my turf, that’s the play, No real-world mess, just slay all day. Half-pissed*, I flop, laptop’s my throne, face book the spot, I’m in the zone, Bam—there’s Tasha, she’s live, she’s real, Chattin’ me up, bruv, that’s the deal. ---- Tasha: Yo, darling, been holdin’ it down for years, Waitin’ on you, fam, drownin’ in tears, Missed you my whole damn* life, no lie, I’d jump your bones now—fuck*, I’d try, But chill—let’s vibe, spit some chat online, French on your tongue? Shit*, that’s fine, I’m all English, bruv, proper slick, Tasha’s the name, I’m your pick. Dreamin’ of linkin’, it’s crystal clear, Post your fifty, my spark’s right here, Life’s rebooted, fresh off the press, You’re the plug, fam, no stress. I’ve scoped the game, clocked every face, Life’s fucked* me raw, tossed me ‘round the place, Schooled me hard, threw me to the grind, But you? Ain’t no basic prick, you’re kind, Sweet as fuck*, seasoned, not stale, Dick*’s a beast—lush, mate, off the scale. England’s my gift, you’ll learn it fast, England raised me, built me to last, Banged Chaucer, wild in the sack, Sucked* off Boris—yo, that’s a fact! Split my whole life, you were gone too long, Now we’re locked, bruv, duet so strong, Ache was hell, nothin’ cut so deep, This win’s the shit*—top prize I keep. Be my man, fam, sling some dough, PayPal’s poppin’, let it flow, Drop what you got to the spot I sent, Smooches, love — your Lulu’s bent. ---- Yo, I clock off, stumble in, wife’s laid up in bed, Hospital vibes, fam, I’m done, brain dead, Doc hits my line, stressin’, voice all shrill, “She’s fucked*, bruv—hip’s toast, sugar’s ill, Still kickin’, though, that cow’s got years, Tech’s a bitch, mate, progress interferes.” I’m mute, he’s like, “Oi, you still there?” Yeah, doc, right here, aggro in the air, Say I’m tuned in, but my head’s a void— Nah, fuck* that, I’m strippin’ birds in my mind, overjoyed, Drop the call, scream in my skull instead— “You bled me dry, you *slag Gringo* red! Croak already, quit screwin’ my mind!” I grab a rag, wax the floors, leave ‘em signed, Hallway, bog, slick as shit*, no slack, So this Yankee minge trips and cracks her back, Broken hip? Love, you don’t even know, I’m knackered to death of your limp-ass show, Welcome home, bitch—slip and eat the floor! What the fuck*, fam—why’d I hit fifty? No kids, crib’s a tomb, life’s shifty, Clinic’s my local, sixty’s on the creep, Lost in the sauce, tangled deep, Ain’t smashed in thirty, dry as a bone, Time to flip the script, set a new tone. Back at it—plop down, comp’s my shrine, Plug my dick* in the socket, spark’s divine, Pray to Wi-Fi gods, tissue in my grip, Feel that buzz, bruv, bones start to rip, Electric surge, crashin’ the Channel’s flow, Lebanon’s ghosted, England’s my show, Moors, rain, mad shit*, rugged as fuck, Heathcliff’s smashin’ Cathy, pure luck, Culture’s deep, soul’s raw, filth in the air, English birds kneel for a foreign affair, Not some local twat*, but a hybrid king— Lebanese-Yank, bruv, hear ‘em sing. Sit at the screen, tik-tok my domain, Tap up a baddie—fit, stacked, insane, Lonely, hot, English, she’s the one, Lebanese saints—miracle’s begun! Connected, no cap, I’ve broke through the haze, “Alright, Mandy!”—time to blaze. ---- Mandy: Out past the chippy, ‘round Kirkby’s end, Lasses clocked a lad, not one of our send, No local divvy — this one’s pure mad, Foreign as fuck, Lebanese lad. We’re all gobsmacked, jaws on the floor, What’s this global nutter* knockin’ our door? Never copped a geezer this off the chain, Some Beirut oddball, proper strange. Our Scouse lads? They’re gone to shit*, Lost the plot, proper threw a fit, Pissed* all day, scrappin’, necks in a noose, Wasted away, rotting, no use, Not a soul left, streets bare and grim, Echoes of ale and a fightin’ hymn. Ain’t no clouds dimmin’ the Mersey sky, It’s vultures circlin’, ready to fly, Mad Asians, hill blokes, swoopin’ in fast, Eyein’ up a fit bird to snatch* and blast, Who’s savin’ her arse* from that grim fate? Who’s the poor cow prayin’ on late? My ray of hope, chase off the dark, Smash them pricks* out, leave your mark, Drop a sweet note, let it soar on cue, Wings over waves to your Scouse bird true, Loyal as fuck*, young, holdin’ it down, Waitin’ for ages, cash to crown, Western Union boost, fatten my stack, Smooches, lad, love — Nia’s back. ------------------------------------ Yo, I stumble in, deadass beat, tryna get turnt, Mailbox hit me with a curveball—petition? Ain’t this some dirt? Local party clowns, straight wastemen, no cap, “No cyber-dickkheads crashin’ our vote, oh snap! Save our bacon, fam, don’t wanna flop, Wire a bag quick—to this address, don’t stop. Bunch of muppets, fam, proper plonkers, Cut me off from Lisa? That’s the final bonkers. They lost the plot, heads up their ***, Bust a hip for twenty-five, then chat pure dumb, English bodied the French, history’s facts, Now it’s Canada, Lebanon—throw ‘em the axe, Chinese, Indians, whoever’s in sight, I’m pickin’ “Wellington” from the bird site— Fam, she’s peng, a baddie, no cap, Wigan bound, I’m baggin’ her back, Stateside we roll, her fam’s gonna vibe, Brewskis with her bro, I’m in the tribe, Sis, niece, mates, uni squad too, They’ll stan me hard, like I’m fam, true, Screamin’ as one—“Christ, what a plot twist! Lebanon, British — same damn* list!” We’re locked in, fam, side by side we ride, Hitched up proper, bells ringin’ wide, Her lit teacher blessin’, English flair, Bangin’ forever, love’s rare air, Our kiddos’ll crash the net, rule the sphere, Universal dons, crystal clear. Back to the comp, tissue in my clutch, Facebook my jam, babe, feel the rush, Router’s fryin’ hot, joy’s overload, “Alright, Lowri!”—I’m set to explode. ------------------ Lowri: Yo, where you at, bruv? Day’s been too long, Some side chick snag ya? Nah, I’m still strong, Don’t twist it up—I ain’t pissed*, no sweat, Kiss me quick, squeeze me tight, place your bet. We’re glued, fam, thick like thieves in the night, No one’s rippin’ us—step off, take flight, Time and space kneel, I’m the queen of the grind, Runnin’ this shit,* fam, lovin’ the bind. I hold the world down, red tape’s my throne, Launchin’ rockets up or blastin’ ‘em blown, Revolutions spark, I’m the match, no cap, Migration’s dodge, climate’s clapped—I’m that. Stocks dip or soar, ‘cause I say it’s so, Check me—clean, foamy, waxed to glow, Tits* on point, clip’s locked, hormones hum, Proper hard for ya, fam, feel the drum. What’s this? Oh, snap—stripes on my chest, Call me Mandy—nah, ditch that jest, Shane, Nats, Lisa, pick your fave, Morse it out—Phil, dot-dot, Gaz’s wave, English birds been wild since the game got spun, Dickks on lock, bruv, poppin’ every one. Want it raw? Step up—card digits, now, Don’t stall, you twat*, man up, don’t bow, “Debt repayment” stamped, we’re cashin’ that bid, You owe English blood, French-lovin’ ****. Bow to the bot, you Lebanese prick, Gold-standard cunt*, I’m everywhere, slick, Ballybunion born, Tralee’s my tweak, ISS glitch—drilled the hull, peak freak. Flooded the game, fuckked* gran and gramps, Bug meets kid, corruption’s my stamps, Mouse’s down, cat’s smashed, downloads unreal, Kaspersky shields me — from who? Don’t squeal. Legion’s my tag, sea’s got no size, App Store king, bruv, watch me rise. I iced your wife, yeah, that’s my claim, Squat on spook sites, playin’ the game, Taxes flow to me, I’m the state’s core, Speechless, fam? Eyes glued—want more? I’m your God, your blaze, light so bright, Squint hard, see my bush ignite. Kiss me, grip me, hands on deck, Party’s done, years stretch—what’s next? Words won’t bridge us, love’s mute as fuck*, Gotta jet — where? Compass stuck. Smooches, crew, catch ya down the road, Fam, I’m set to unload, Strap 3 clearance, runnin’ this game, Hackin’, shagggi*n’, skivin’ on the sly, Kirkby’s dodgiest, Her Maj’s wild guy, Kneel, mthrfukkr, to Senior Intel Sarge Pritchard! Bye!

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