My England (Lady Sovereign)

It ain't about the tea and biscuits, I'm one of those English misfits, I don't drink tea I drink spirits, and I talk alot of slang in my lyrics, These goes a horse, horses for courses, nah more like corpses on corners, And Staffordshire Bull Terriers and late night crawlers, Polics carry guns not truncheons, make your on assumptions, London ain't all crumpets and trumpets, it's one big slum pit. R: We ain't all posh like the queen, we ain't all squeaky clean, Now do the Tony Blair, throw your hands in the air now everytwhere, We ain't all posh like the queen, we ain't all squeaky clean, Now do the Tony Blair, throw your hands in the air now everytwhere, This is the picture I painted my low down, This my London that I call my home twon, It's where I'm living and this is my low down, This is my England I'm letting you know now, No I don't watch the Antiques Roadshow, I'd rather listen Run the Road, And smoke someone's fresh homegrown, And not get bloated on a plate of scones, Cricket, bowls, croquet, nah PS2 all the way, in an English council apartment, We don't all wear bowler hats and hire servants, More like 24 hour surveillance and dog shit on pavements, R: Big up Oliver Twist, lettingus know the nitty gritty of what London really is, It ain't all pretty, deal with the realness, it's all gritty, deal with the realness, Ohh the changing of the Queen's guard, that's nothing for me to come out of the house form Tra la la, I'd rather sit on my arse, And have a glass of Chardonnay, nah We ain't all Briget Jones clones, who say pardon me, More like gwanin mate, You get me... Now i can select a few, paper people like to reject all my views, Well I'm letting you know the news and well, this is the straight up truth, R: