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Tracey, stop bringing black blokes back

You’ve stuck in your vajazzle and put on your wonderbra
see you through the nets, you’re getting in that black man’s car
     (It’s a dark green M Reg Nissan Sunny... What?)
know you’ll be back later with him romping in the sack
Tracey, stop bringing black blokes back

It was Tony Blair that sent us to Afghanistan
try and find Bin Laden and to fight the Taliban
     (Now they’re saying they’re alright, they wanna make their fucking minds up)
I lost everything I had in that roadside attack
Tracey, stop bringing black blokes back

legs and my arms all got blown off by an IED
And there’s just a little pink stump where my tackle used to be
     (With a few burnt off pubes around it)
You leave me in my wheelchair and go out to Jumpin Jacks
Tracey, stop bringing black blokes back

It’s racist to infer that all black men are well endowed
some of those chaps you’ve had round stood nine inches when proud
     (That one last night was like a tripod)
That geezer’s corey last night looked like it might split your crack
Tracey, stop bringing black blokes back

While you’re making love to men of Afro-Caribbean race
To make things worse a lazy fly keeps landing on my face
     (You didn’t give me a wet wipe me after I had that J20)
And I can’t even swat it, because limbs I lack
Tracey, stop bringing black blokes back

If I
had a leg I’d put a boot on and kick you up the flaps
Tracey, stop humping coloured chaps
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Little Kunt
Lyrics reproduced courtesy of
Little Kunt.

The views of Little Kunt do not in any way represent Kunt and the Gang.