Lyrics SPORTSWEAR - Rat Boy

SPORTSWEAR

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
Ooh
Ahh
Ooh
Ahh
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
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
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
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
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
I’m sitting on the curb while my mate’s rolling a fag
I’m fucking hurting, so bored
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
I’ve got enough money in my pocket, and you ain’t, yeah