| All the «bad boys"want some brawl, it’s tricky
|
| And girls enjoy, they feel so lucky
|
| Laughing at weeds running out the door
|
| Calling their mom when they lick the floor
|
| (Look how) Those funky monkeys talk and walk in store
|
| They’re lost, sad and brawny like an apple core
|
| Who can believe that there will be some gore With those wimps like I said before
|
| It ain’t right, babe, no
|
| It ain’t right, no no
|
| Mama, don’t do that you know
|
| It ain’t right, yeah, boy boy
|
| «Bad boys"are not so picky
|
| They ride away and feel so happy
|
| To fight for girls they do adore
|
| Snorting like boars rolling on the floor
|
| With their leather jacket and their rocky voice
|
| They hit, fight, kick, wreak havoc and rejoice
|
| Nobody knows what they are looking for
|
| A kind of battle axe or maybe more
|
| It ain’t right, babe, no
|
| It ain’t right, no no
|
| Mama, don’t do that you know
|
| It ain’t right, yeah, boy boy
|
| When a bad boy tramp sounds, its' freaky
|
| Cause you’re afraid, remember he’s lanky
|
| Don’t rate him even he gets sore
|
| Cross the river and roam the shore
|
| It ain’t right, babe, no
|
| It ain’t right, no no
|
| Mama, don’t do that you know
|
| It ain’t right, yeah, boy boy |