| Song | The Criminal Kind |
| Artist | Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers |
| Album | Hard Promises |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Petty | |
| You got a criminal mind, you got criminal looks | |
| And boy, you better look out or you're gonna get hooked | |
| Oh, don't you ever feel guilty when you come up short | |
| Man, you better be careful, you're gonna get caught' | |
| Cause you're the criminal kind, you're the criminal kind | |
| Man, what you gonna do? | |
| Oh, where you gonna hide? | |
| They're callin' you a sickness, disease of the mind | |
| Man, what you gonna do? | |
| You're the criminal kind | |
| Oh, don't you ever get tired? | |
| Oh, don't you ever wanna quit? | |
| No matter's been a long time and you still don't fit | |
| Dog tags on your mirror, hangin' down from a chain | |
| Give up, little sister, this ain't gonna change | |
| Now here's the criminal kind, the criminal kind | |
| Now, what you gonna do? | |
| Oh, you're running out of time | |
| Yeah, they're callin' you a sickness, disease of the mind | |
| Man, what you gonna do? | |
| You're the criminal kind | |
| Yeah, and that little girl you used to know | |
| Just don't come around no more | |
| Now she ain't there to watch the door | |
| She don't wanna die in no liquor store | |
| I hope they all made money, | |
| I hope they all get rich | |
| Then I hope they give hell to every son of a bitch | |
| Then put a man on the carpet or stuck him out on the line | |
| Whoever let him get a taste of the criminal life | |
| You're the criminal kind, the criminal kind | |
| Now, what you gonna do? | |
| Where you gonna hide? | |
| They're callin' you a sickness, sign of the time | |
| Now, what you gonna do? | |
| You're the criminal kind, oh | |
| Now, what you gonna do? |
| zuo qu : Petty | |
| You got a criminal mind, you got criminal looks | |
| And boy, you better look out or you' re gonna get hooked | |
| Oh, don' t you ever feel guilty when you come up short | |
| Man, you better be careful, you' re gonna get caught' | |
| Cause you' re the criminal kind, you' re the criminal kind | |
| Man, what you gonna do? | |
| Oh, where you gonna hide? | |
| They' re callin' you a sickness, disease of the mind | |
| Man, what you gonna do? | |
| You' re the criminal kind | |
| Oh, don' t you ever get tired? | |
| Oh, don' t you ever wanna quit? | |
| No matter' s been a long time and you still don' t fit | |
| Dog tags on your mirror, hangin' down from a chain | |
| Give up, little sister, this ain' t gonna change | |
| Now here' s the criminal kind, the criminal kind | |
| Now, what you gonna do? | |
| Oh, you' re running out of time | |
| Yeah, they' re callin' you a sickness, disease of the mind | |
| Man, what you gonna do? | |
| You' re the criminal kind | |
| Yeah, and that little girl you used to know | |
| Just don' t come around no more | |
| Now she ain' t there to watch the door | |
| She don' t wanna die in no liquor store | |
| I hope they all made money, | |
| I hope they all get rich | |
| Then I hope they give hell to every son of a bitch | |
| Then put a man on the carpet or stuck him out on the line | |
| Whoever let him get a taste of the criminal life | |
| You' re the criminal kind, the criminal kind | |
| Now, what you gonna do? | |
| Where you gonna hide? | |
| They' re callin' you a sickness, sign of the time | |
| Now, what you gonna do? | |
| You' re the criminal kind, oh | |
| Now, what you gonna do? |
| zuò qǔ : Petty | |
| You got a criminal mind, you got criminal looks | |
| And boy, you better look out or you' re gonna get hooked | |
| Oh, don' t you ever feel guilty when you come up short | |
| Man, you better be careful, you' re gonna get caught' | |
| Cause you' re the criminal kind, you' re the criminal kind | |
| Man, what you gonna do? | |
| Oh, where you gonna hide? | |
| They' re callin' you a sickness, disease of the mind | |
| Man, what you gonna do? | |
| You' re the criminal kind | |
| Oh, don' t you ever get tired? | |
| Oh, don' t you ever wanna quit? | |
| No matter' s been a long time and you still don' t fit | |
| Dog tags on your mirror, hangin' down from a chain | |
| Give up, little sister, this ain' t gonna change | |
| Now here' s the criminal kind, the criminal kind | |
| Now, what you gonna do? | |
| Oh, you' re running out of time | |
| Yeah, they' re callin' you a sickness, disease of the mind | |
| Man, what you gonna do? | |
| You' re the criminal kind | |
| Yeah, and that little girl you used to know | |
| Just don' t come around no more | |
| Now she ain' t there to watch the door | |
| She don' t wanna die in no liquor store | |
| I hope they all made money, | |
| I hope they all get rich | |
| Then I hope they give hell to every son of a bitch | |
| Then put a man on the carpet or stuck him out on the line | |
| Whoever let him get a taste of the criminal life | |
| You' re the criminal kind, the criminal kind | |
| Now, what you gonna do? | |
| Where you gonna hide? | |
| They' re callin' you a sickness, sign of the time | |
| Now, what you gonna do? | |
| You' re the criminal kind, oh | |
| Now, what you gonna do? |