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god save the queen’s cunt [2020 version] - kunt and the gang lyrics

[intro]
bada*bada, bop*bop*ba*dadada
bada*bada, bop*bop*ba*dadada
bada*bada, bop*bop*ba*dadada
bada*bada, bop*bop*ba*da

[verse 1]
there’s a bloke called alan farthing
gynecologist to the royals
he’s had to sign the official secrets act
for the fannies over which he toils
you see, he’s fondled fergie’s f*ck*flaps
and he’s fisted princess di
he’s seen middleton’s m*ff, and markle’s minge
and camilla parker*bowles’ brown eye
but there’s one v*g*n* that tops the list *
it’s the pride of alan’s c.v
it’s ninety years old, it’s got grey p*b*s
trimmed as neat as neat can bе!

[chorus]
the queen’s c*nt
the queen’s c*nt
it’s the poshеst minge in britain
i say that without a doubt
the queen’s c*nt
(god save it * god save the queen’s c*nt!)
the queen’s c*nt
(god save it * god save the queen’s c*nt!)
you would have to suck a peppermint
if you were going to l!ck it out

[bridge]
(god save it * god save the queen’s c*nt!)
(god save it * god save the queen’s c*nt!)
(god save it * god save the queen’s c*nt!)
(god save it * god save the queen’s c*nt!)
[spoken:] if one is going to drink from the furry cup * one has to hold one’s finger up!

[verse 2]
the royal box must be the jewel in the crown
of alan farthing’s repertoire
it’s got a crest with a lion and a unicorn on
that reads: ‘dieu et mon droit’ (ooh*la*la!)
it has grade ii listed l*b**
and a preserving order on her cl*t
there’s a pair of beefeaters standing guard
at the entrance to her slit!
the queen’s*queen’s too posh to have a c*ck inserted
so one of her servants applied
some silken gloves to hold her f*ck*flaps apart
while her butler went feeling inside
since he retired from pubic duty
the duke of edinburgh’s got blue b*lls (blue b*lls!)
now the only thing allowed up the queen’s c*nt
is a d*ld* made of jewels!
[chorus]
the queen’s c*nt
the queen’s c*nt
it’s not the kind of c*nt
where you or i would get to sp*nk

the queen’s c*nt
(god save it * god save the queen’s c*nt!)
the queen’s c*nt
(god save it * god save the queen’s c*nt!)
it’s not the type of c*nt
that one might see when one is drunk

the queen’s c*nt
(god save it * god save the queen’s c*nt!)
the queen’s c*nt
(god save it * god save the queen’s c*nt!)
is the poshest sn*tch in britain
without a shadow of a doubt

the queen’s c*nt
(god save it * god save the queen’s c*nt!)
the queen’s c*nt
(god save it * god save the queen’s c*nt!)
it smells so much like truffles
a little pig could sniff it out
[outro]
(god save it * god save the queen’s c*nt!)
(god save it * god save the queen’s c*nt!)
(god save it * god save the queen’s c*nt!)
(god save it * god save the queen’s c*nt!)

- kunt and the gang lyrics

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