| Song | Why Judy |
| Artist | Hot Action Cop |
| Album | Hot Action Cop |
| 作曲 : Werthner | |
| It's like it always rains when | |
| I run my brain, | |
| The chitter chatter's got me shattered, | |
| And I feel like | |
| I'm scattered now, | |
| I'm battered, | |
| Knocked down to the concrete, | |
| Because of cruising past that parking lot on seventeenth street, | |
| That's where me and my girl locked in a backseat bliss, | |
| I can't believe that all this bullshit started up with a kiss, | |
| It's like all my dreams they turn into a life, | |
| And now I'm feelin' like | |
| I'm sittin' on the edge of a knife! | |
| Woah now woah hey woah say woah, | |
| I wanna tell her that | |
| I love her but | |
| I don't all the time, | |
| Woah now woah hey woah say woah, | |
| It's got me drinkin' and | |
| I'm thinkin' as | |
| I drive through the light, | |
| Starin' out through the windshield wipers, | |
| Then it hits me like a shot from the sniper! | |
| Judy that baby ain't got my eyes, | |
| I wonder whose eyes they is, | |
| Yeah, Judy that baby ain't got my smile, | |
| I wonder whose smile that is, | |
| Yeah… Shit had me fool proof, | |
| But I'm the fool with the proof, | |
| It's just an urban legend if ya think that you'll be happy, | |
| The truth is that la vida loca was all about you creepy sneakin', | |
| Yeah yeah, | |
| You got me drinkin' yo, | |
| You got the luscious johnson, | |
| You got the magic bone, | |
| Now you don't get no money like the lawyer said on the phone, | |
| I come to ransack your shack, | |
| Your suburb, | |
| Your Cadillac, | |
| Full custody, | |
| I'll take it all back! | |
| Woah now woah hey woah say woah, | |
| I wanna tell her that | |
| I love her but | |
| I don't all the time, | |
| Woah now woah hey woah say woah, | |
| I got the feelin' that | |
| I'm livin' at the scene of a crime, | |
| Starin' out through the windshield wipers, | |
| Then it hits me like a shot from the sniper! | |
| Judy that baby ain't got my eyes, | |
| I wonder whose eyes they is, | |
| Yeah, Judy that baby ain't got my smile, | |
| I wonder whose smile that is, | |
| Yeah… It's no use, | |
| It's no use… | |
| Woah now woah hey woah say woah, | |
| I wanna tell her that | |
| I love her but | |
| I don't all the time, | |
| Woah now woah hey woah say woah, | |
| I got the feelin' like | |
| I'm livin' at the scene of a crime, | |
| Woah now woah hey woah say woah, | |
| I coulda sworn that | |
| I was trippin' it was such a surprise, | |
| Woah now woah hey woah say woah, | |
| And now my grip is kinda slippin' while my little one cries, | |
| Starin' out through the windshield wipers, | |
| Then it hits me like a shot from the sniper! | |
| Judy that baby ain't got my eyes, | |
| I wonder whose eyes they is, (Those eyes see), | |
| Yeah, Judy that baby ain't got my smile, (Ain't got my smile), | |
| I wonder whose smile that is, (I wonder), | |
| Yeah, Judy that baby ain't got my style, (That baby), (That baby), | |
| I wonder whose style that is, (Woah I wonder), | |
| Yeah, Judy that baby just ain't my child, (It ain't my child), | |
| I wonder whose child that is, | |
| I know it ain't mine… | |
| It must be his, | |
| His his his, | |
| It must be his, | |
| Yeah… |
| zuò qǔ : Werthner | |
| It' s like it always rains when | |
| I run my brain, | |
| The chitter chatter' s got me shattered, | |
| And I feel like | |
| I' m scattered now, | |
| I' m battered, | |
| Knocked down to the concrete, | |
| Because of cruising past that parking lot on seventeenth street, | |
| That' s where me and my girl locked in a backseat bliss, | |
| I can' t believe that all this bullshit started up with a kiss, | |
| It' s like all my dreams they turn into a life, | |
| And now I' m feelin' like | |
| I' m sittin' on the edge of a knife! | |
| Woah now woah hey woah say woah, | |
| I wanna tell her that | |
| I love her but | |
| I don' t all the time, | |
| Woah now woah hey woah say woah, | |
| It' s got me drinkin' and | |
| I' m thinkin' as | |
| I drive through the light, | |
| Starin' out through the windshield wipers, | |
| Then it hits me like a shot from the sniper! | |
| Judy that baby ain' t got my eyes, | |
| I wonder whose eyes they is, | |
| Yeah, Judy that baby ain' t got my smile, | |
| I wonder whose smile that is, | |
| Yeah Shit had me fool proof, | |
| But I' m the fool with the proof, | |
| It' s just an urban legend if ya think that you' ll be happy, | |
| The truth is that la vida loca was all about you creepy sneakin', | |
| Yeah yeah, | |
| You got me drinkin' yo, | |
| You got the luscious johnson, | |
| You got the magic bone, | |
| Now you don' t get no money like the lawyer said on the phone, | |
| I come to ransack your shack, | |
| Your suburb, | |
| Your Cadillac, | |
| Full custody, | |
| I' ll take it all back! | |
| Woah now woah hey woah say woah, | |
| I wanna tell her that | |
| I love her but | |
| I don' t all the time, | |
| Woah now woah hey woah say woah, | |
| I got the feelin' that | |
| I' m livin' at the scene of a crime, | |
| Starin' out through the windshield wipers, | |
| Then it hits me like a shot from the sniper! | |
| Judy that baby ain' t got my eyes, | |
| I wonder whose eyes they is, | |
| Yeah, Judy that baby ain' t got my smile, | |
| I wonder whose smile that is, | |
| Yeah It' s no use, | |
| It' s no use | |
| Woah now woah hey woah say woah, | |
| I wanna tell her that | |
| I love her but | |
| I don' t all the time, | |
| Woah now woah hey woah say woah, | |
| I got the feelin' like | |
| I' m livin' at the scene of a crime, | |
| Woah now woah hey woah say woah, | |
| I coulda sworn that | |
| I was trippin' it was such a surprise, | |
| Woah now woah hey woah say woah, | |
| And now my grip is kinda slippin' while my little one cries, | |
| Starin' out through the windshield wipers, | |
| Then it hits me like a shot from the sniper! | |
| Judy that baby ain' t got my eyes, | |
| I wonder whose eyes they is, Those eyes see, | |
| Yeah, Judy that baby ain' t got my smile, Ain' t got my smile, | |
| I wonder whose smile that is, I wonder, | |
| Yeah, Judy that baby ain' t got my style, That baby, That baby, | |
| I wonder whose style that is, Woah I wonder, | |
| Yeah, Judy that baby just ain' t my child, It ain' t my child, | |
| I wonder whose child that is, | |
| I know it ain' t mine | |
| It must be his, | |
| His his his, | |
| It must be his, | |
| Yeah |