| 作曲 : Jordan Cardy | |
| [Verse 1] | |
| Well, I've got a funny feeling in my stomach | |
| But that don't matter cause me and you are always into something | |
| Whether it be riding, walking home drenched in the freezing cold | |
| Or entering a town where the postboxes now say sold | |
| [Break] | |
| Ooh | |
| Ahh | |
| Ooh | |
| Ahh | |
| [Verse 2] | |
| Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop? I won't stop it | |
| Hand me your car keys, I'll try and unlock it | |
| Sitting in the backseat with that worn-out interior | |
| Blatantly looked down on by all our superiors | |
| [Chorus] | |
| Ed Hardy jeans, with broken dreams | |
| Stitched in between the seams | |
| That boy in a bivvy looks about 13 | |
| Trying to sell sticks claimed to be weed | |
| [Verse 3] | |
| Laugh out loud for you and your wannabe crew | |
| In your bodywarmer Nike and bad attitude | |
| I'm not being rude but you've already got babies with two different ladies | |
| How do you want to be viewed? | |
| And while you're out getting screwed, stewed and tattooed she's on her own | |
| Trying to get your baby some food | |
| [Chorus] | |
| Ed Hardy jeans, with broken dreams | |
| Stitched in between the seams | |
| That boy in a bivvy looks about 13 | |
| Trying to sell sticks claimed to be weed | |
| [Verse 3] | |
| Live in sportswear | |
| But they never go running | |
| Staying in, always bunning | |
| Watching porn, brain-numbing | |
| Lack of motherly loving from a young age | |
| As they can clearly say | |
| They never got nothing from anyone | |
| Cliché | |
| [Bridge] | |
| I'm sitting on the curb while my mate's rolling a fag | |
| I'm ****ing hurting, so bored | |
| [Chorus] | |
| Ed Hardy jeans, with broken dreams | |
| Stitched in between the seams | |
| That boy in a bivvy looks about 13 | |
| Trying to sell sticks claimed to be weed | |
| [Outro] | |
| I've got enough money in my pocket, and you ain't, yeah |
| zuo qu : Jordan Cardy | |
| Verse 1 | |
| Well, I' ve got a funny feeling in my stomach | |
| But that don' t matter cause me and you are always into something | |
| Whether it be riding, walking home drenched in the freezing cold | |
| Or entering a town where the postboxes now say sold | |
| Break | |
| Ooh | |
| Ahh | |
| Ooh | |
| Ahh | |
| Verse 2 | |
| Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop? I won' t stop it | |
| Hand me your car keys, I' ll try and unlock it | |
| Sitting in the backseat with that wornout interior | |
| Blatantly looked down on by all our superiors | |
| Chorus | |
| Ed Hardy jeans, with broken dreams | |
| Stitched in between the seams | |
| That boy in a bivvy looks about 13 | |
| Trying to sell sticks claimed to be weed | |
| Verse 3 | |
| Laugh out loud for you and your wannabe crew | |
| In your bodywarmer Nike and bad attitude | |
| I' m not being rude but you' ve already got babies with two different ladies | |
| How do you want to be viewed? | |
| And while you' re out getting screwed, stewed and tattooed she' s on her own | |
| Trying to get your baby some food | |
| Chorus | |
| Ed Hardy jeans, with broken dreams | |
| Stitched in between the seams | |
| That boy in a bivvy looks about 13 | |
| Trying to sell sticks claimed to be weed | |
| Verse 3 | |
| Live in sportswear | |
| But they never go running | |
| Staying in, always bunning | |
| Watching porn, brainnumbing | |
| Lack of motherly loving from a young age | |
| As they can clearly say | |
| They never got nothing from anyone | |
| Cliche | |
| Bridge | |
| I' m sitting on the curb while my mate' s rolling a fag | |
| I' m ing hurting, so bored | |
| Chorus | |
| Ed Hardy jeans, with broken dreams | |
| Stitched in between the seams | |
| That boy in a bivvy looks about 13 | |
| Trying to sell sticks claimed to be weed | |
| Outro | |
| I' ve got enough money in my pocket, and you ain' t, yeah |
| zuò qǔ : Jordan Cardy | |
| Verse 1 | |
| Well, I' ve got a funny feeling in my stomach | |
| But that don' t matter cause me and you are always into something | |
| Whether it be riding, walking home drenched in the freezing cold | |
| Or entering a town where the postboxes now say sold | |
| Break | |
| Ooh | |
| Ahh | |
| Ooh | |
| Ahh | |
| Verse 2 | |
| Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop? I won' t stop it | |
| Hand me your car keys, I' ll try and unlock it | |
| Sitting in the backseat with that wornout interior | |
| Blatantly looked down on by all our superiors | |
| Chorus | |
| Ed Hardy jeans, with broken dreams | |
| Stitched in between the seams | |
| That boy in a bivvy looks about 13 | |
| Trying to sell sticks claimed to be weed | |
| Verse 3 | |
| Laugh out loud for you and your wannabe crew | |
| In your bodywarmer Nike and bad attitude | |
| I' m not being rude but you' ve already got babies with two different ladies | |
| How do you want to be viewed? | |
| And while you' re out getting screwed, stewed and tattooed she' s on her own | |
| Trying to get your baby some food | |
| Chorus | |
| Ed Hardy jeans, with broken dreams | |
| Stitched in between the seams | |
| That boy in a bivvy looks about 13 | |
| Trying to sell sticks claimed to be weed | |
| Verse 3 | |
| Live in sportswear | |
| But they never go running | |
| Staying in, always bunning | |
| Watching porn, brainnumbing | |
| Lack of motherly loving from a young age | |
| As they can clearly say | |
| They never got nothing from anyone | |
| Cliché | |
| Bridge | |
| I' m sitting on the curb while my mate' s rolling a fag | |
| I' m ing hurting, so bored | |
| Chorus | |
| Ed Hardy jeans, with broken dreams | |
| Stitched in between the seams | |
| That boy in a bivvy looks about 13 | |
| Trying to sell sticks claimed to be weed | |
| Outro | |
| I' ve got enough money in my pocket, and you ain' t, yeah |
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