Fuck Me Pumps

	 
 Bsus4    Bm7     Dm 
EADGBE  EADGBE  EADGBE
x24452  x24232  xx0231 
  Fm6     C       Bm  
EADGBE  EADGBE  EADGBE
1x0110  032010  x24432
  G       Am      D
EADGBE  EADGBE  EADGBE  
320003  x02210  xx0232  
[Strophe]
         Bsus4       Bm7          Dm             Fm6 
When you walk in the bar, and you dressed like a star, 
C             Bm   G 
 Rockin' your F me pumps. 
        Bsus4      Bm7            Dm        Fm6 
And the men notice you, with your Gucci bag crew, 
      C             Bm      G 
Can't tell who he's lookin' to. 
         Bsus4        Bm7         Dm             Fm6 
'Cos you all look the same; every-one knows your name, 
    C                Bm       G 
And that's you whole claim to fame. 
   Bsus4      Bm7         Dm            Fm6 
Ne-ver miss a night, 'cuz your dream in life, 
      C         Bm      G 
Is to be a foot-ballers wife.
[Refrain]
               Am                       D 
You don't like players, that's what you say-a, 
        G                              C 
But you really wouldn't mind a million-aire. 
               Am                             D 
You don't like ballers, they don't do nothing for ya, 
          G                C 
But you'd love a rich man, six feet two or taller.
[Strophe]
       Bsus4       Bm7       Dm        Fm6 
You're more than a fan, look-in' for a man, 
        C           Bm        G 
But you end up with one-night-stands. 
         Bsus4         Bm7          Dm           Fm6 
He could be your whole life, if you got past one night, 
    C         Bm         G 
But that part never goes right. 
       Bsus4          Bm7         Dm       Fm6 
In the morning you're vexed, he's onto the next, 
        C           Bm     G 
And you didn't even get no taste. 
      Bsus4     Bm7          Dm         Fm6 
Don't be too up-set, if they call you a skank, 
              C           Bm          G 
'Cos like the news; every-day you get pressed.
[Refrain]
               Am                       D 
You don't like players, that's what you say-a, 
        G                              C 
But you really wouldn't mind a million-aire. 
               Am                             D 
You don't like ballers, they don't do nothing for ya, 
          G                C 
But you'd love a rich man, six feet two or taller.
[Strophe]
    Bsus4          Bm7             Dm            Fm6 
You can't sit down right, 'cos you jeans are too tight, 
         C          Bm     G 
And your lucky it's ladies night. 
          Bsus4     Bm7          Dm           Fm6 
With your big empty purse, every week it gets worse, 
   C                  Bm             G 
At least your breasts cost more than hers. 
       Bsus4   Bm7          Dm            Fm6 
So you did Mia-mi, 'cos you got there for free, 
    C            Bm         G 
But somehow, you missed the plane. 
    Bsus4        Bm7 Dm         Fm6 
You did too much E;  met somebo-dy, 
    C               Bm      G 
And spent the night getting caned.
[Refrain]
        Am                            D 
Without girls like you, there'd be no fun; 
     G                               C 
We'd go to the club, and not see any-one. 
        Am                               D 
Without girls like you, there's no night-life, 
          G                         C 
All those men just go home to their wives.
[Strophe]
      Bsus4     Bm7             Dm           Fm6 
Don't be mad at me, 'cos you're pushing thir-ty, 
         C          Bm        G 
And your old tricks no longer work. 
                Bsus4          Bm7           Dm         Fm6 
You should have known from the job, that you always get dumped; 
   C             Bm      G 
So dust off your fuck me pumps.