The Law of Vibes

spoken-word pop-rock, alternative folk-rock, chant-pop

+ Show full styles

V6-WILD

Then I landed back in Britain and nobody gave a toss,
Someone yelled it from a bus stop at their mate across the road.
Scotland put it on a birthday card, Australia made it rhyme,
New Zealand said, “Yeah, fair enough,” and carried on just fine.

**Pre-Chorus**
Now customs want my dictionary,
Security’s checking every page,
Apparently my vocabulary
Has entered its rebellious stage.

**Chorus**
You can say **cunt** here,
But apparently not there,
One country laughs into its pint,
One launches a national scare.
Same mouth, same word,
Different diplomatic pain,
I said it once in Toronto
And now I’m banned from a train.

You can say **cunt** here,
And somewhere alarms go off,
A committee starts a meeting,
Someone dramatically starts to cough.
Stamp my passport, scan my shoes,
Search my suitcase if you must—
You won’t find illegal substances,
Just aggressive British disgust.

**Verse 2**
Glasgow put the word on bunting, Sydney baked it on a cake,
Dublin used it affectionately before they’d even had a break.
Toronto held a seminar called *Words We Should Discuss*,
While London put it on a T-shirt and took it on the bus.

A bloke in Melbourne shouted it while chasing down his dog,
Somebody in Vancouver fainted gently near a log.
England said, “Was it deserved?” Scotland said, “Probably, aye,”
Australia asked no questions and just shouted it nearby.

**Pre-Chorus**
The UN called an emergency session,
France brought cheese and took no side,
Germany made seventeen charts,
Italy just argued outside.

**Chorus**
You can say **cunt** here,
But apparently not there,
One country thinks it’s banter,
One files paperwork in despair.
Same four letters,
International catastrophe,
I sneezed it near an airport gate
And grounded flights till three.

You can say **cunt** here,
But check the local law of vibes,
Some places shrug and carry on,
Some summon ancient scribes.
Raise the flag, ring the bell,
Alert the BBC—
Somebody heard a naughty word
And blamed the economy.

**Rap Break**
Canada said,
“Please refrain.”

Scotland said,
“Say it again.”

Australia yelled it
Out a van.

New Zealand said,
“Yeah, good one, man.”

England shrugged,
Ireland cheered,
A customs officer disappeared.

France looked bored,
Spain said “Why?”
Norway watched the drama fly.

Then someone called NATO,
Someone called Mum,
Someone blamed TikTok,
Someone looked dumb.

I got detained
By vocabulary police,
Charged with possession
Of disturbing the peace.

They opened my suitcase—
Socks, snacks, one shoe,
And a handwritten note saying:
“Yeah, I probably meant you.”

**Bridge**
Same planet.
Same swear word.
Entirely different crisis.
One place calls it friendship,
One place calls twelve therapists.

Somebody made a flowchart,
Somebody built a wall,
Somebody screamed, “Think of the children!”
The children did not care at all.

**Breakdown**
Emergency broadcast:

**ATTENTION.**

A British person has entered the country
with unrestricted access
to the letter **C**.

Remain calm.

Do not approach.

Do not offer tea.

Do not ask what they think of your driving.

**Final Chorus**
You can say **cunt** here,
But maybe bring a map,
Because somewhere it means “mate,”
And somewhere it starts a diplomatic scrap.
From Canada to Britain,
From Sydney to Dundee,
I’ve caused seventeen incidents
And somehow blamed geography.

So stamp my passport, take my belt,
Confiscate my duty-free,
You can take my shampoo, liquids, shoes—
But you’ll never take profanity.

Same word.
Same mouth.
Same chaos coming through.

And if airport security asks
Who started all of this—

**Tell them it was probably some cunt in row two.**

3859/7500

**Verse 1** I said **cunt** in Canada and three geese formed a line, A Mountie dropped his coffee and declared, “This is not fine.” Someone rang the government, someone blamed the snow, One bloke whispered, “Jesus Christ,” and slowly backed up to go. Then I landed back in Britain and nobody gave a toss, Someone yelled it from a bus stop at their mate across the road. Scotland put it on a birthday card, Australia made it rhyme, New Zealand said, “Yeah, fair enough,” and carried on just fine. **Pre-Chorus** Now customs want my dictionary, Security’s checking every page, Apparently my vocabulary Has entered its rebellious stage. **Chorus** You can say **cunt** here, But apparently not there, One country laughs into its pint, One launches a national scare. Same mouth, same word, Different diplomatic pain, I said it once in Toronto And now I’m banned from a train. You can say **cunt** here, And somewhere alarms go off, A committee starts a meeting, Someone dramatically starts to cough. Stamp my passport, scan my shoes, Search my suitcase if you must— You won’t find illegal substances, Just aggressive British disgust. **Verse 2** Glasgow put the word on bunting, Sydney baked it on a cake, Dublin used it affectionately before they’d even had a break. Toronto held a seminar called *Words We Should Discuss*, While London put it on a T-shirt and took it on the bus. A bloke in Melbourne shouted it while chasing down his dog, Somebody in Vancouver fainted gently near a log. England said, “Was it deserved?” Scotland said, “Probably, aye,” Australia asked no questions and just shouted it nearby. **Pre-Chorus** The UN called an emergency session, France brought cheese and took no side, Germany made seventeen charts, Italy just argued outside. **Chorus** You can say **cunt** here, But apparently not there, One country thinks it’s banter, One files paperwork in despair. Same four letters, International catastrophe, I sneezed it near an airport gate And grounded flights till three. You can say **cunt** here, But check the local law of vibes, Some places shrug and carry on, Some summon ancient scribes. Raise the flag, ring the bell, Alert the BBC— Somebody heard a naughty word And blamed the economy. **Rap Break** Canada said, “Please refrain.” Scotland said, “Say it again.” Australia yelled it Out a van. New Zealand said, “Yeah, good one, man.” England shrugged, Ireland cheered, A customs officer disappeared. France looked bored, Spain said “Why?” Norway watched the drama fly. Then someone called NATO, Someone called Mum, Someone blamed TikTok, Someone looked dumb. I got detained By vocabulary police, Charged with possession Of disturbing the peace. They opened my suitcase— Socks, snacks, one shoe, And a handwritten note saying: “Yeah, I probably meant you.” **Bridge** Same planet. Same swear word. Entirely different crisis. One place calls it friendship, One place calls twelve therapists. Somebody made a flowchart, Somebody built a wall, Somebody screamed, “Think of the children!” The children did not care at all. **Breakdown** Emergency broadcast: **ATTENTION.** A British person has entered the country with unrestricted access to the letter **C**. Remain calm. Do not approach. Do not offer tea. Do not ask what they think of your driving. **Final Chorus** You can say **cunt** here, But maybe bring a map, Because somewhere it means “mate,” And somewhere it starts a diplomatic scrap. From Canada to Britain, From Sydney to Dundee, I’ve caused seventeen incidents And somehow blamed geography. So stamp my passport, take my belt, Confiscate my duty-free, You can take my shampoo, liquids, shoes— But you’ll never take profanity. Same word. Same mouth. Same chaos coming through. And if airport security asks Who started all of this— **Tell them it was probably some cunt in row two.**

0/500