Fuck Me Pumps taby ukulele według Amy Winehouse

Verse 1:
         Bsus4       Bm7
When you walk in the bar,
        Dm             Fm6
And you dressed like a star,
C             Bm   G
 Rockin' your F me pumps.

        Bsus4      Bm7
And the men notice you,
          Dm        Fm6
With your Gucci bag crew,
      C             Bm      G
Can't tell who he's lookin' to.

         Bsus4        Bm7
'Cuz you all look the same,
      Dm             Fm6
Every-one knows your name,
    C                Bm       G
And that's you whole claim to fame.

   Bsus4      Bm7
Ne-ver miss a night,
     Dm            Fm6
'Cuz your dream in life,
      C         Bm      G
Is to be a foot-ballers wife.


Chorus 1:
               Am
You don't like players,
                D
That's what you say-a,
        G
But you really,
                        C
Wouldn't mind a million-aire.
               Am
You don't like ballers,
                      D
They don't do nothing for ya,
          G
But you'd love a rich man,
C
 Six foot two or taller.



Verse 2:
       Bsus4       Bm7
You're more than a fan,
     Dm        Fm6
Look-in' for a man,
        C
But you end up,
     Bm         G
With one-nights-stands.
         Bsus4         Bm7
He could be your whole life,
       Dm           Fm6
If you got past one night,
    C         Bm         G
But that part never goes right.
       Bsus4          Bm7
In the morning you're vexed,
     Dm       Fm6
He's onto the next,
        C           Bm     G
And you didn't even get no taste.
      Bsus4     Bm7
Don't be too up-set,
        Dm         Fm6
If they call you a skank,
              C
'Cuz like the news,
      Bm          G
Every-day you get pressed.



Chorus 2:
               Am
You don't like players,
                D
That's what you say-a,
        G
But you really,
                        C
Wouldn't mind a million-aire.
               Am
You don't like ballers,
                      D
They don't do nothing for ya,
          G
But you'd love a rich man,
C
 Six foot two or taller.



Verse 3:
    Bsus4          Bm7
You can't sit down right,
         Dm            Fm6
'Cuz you jeans are too tight,
         C         Bm     G
And your lucky its ladies night.
          Bsus4     Bm7
With your big empty purse,
      Dm           Fm6
Every week it gets worse,
   C
At least your breasts,
Bm              G
 Cost more than hers.

       Bsus4   Bm7
So you did Mia-mi,
         Dm            Fm6
'Cuz you got there for free,
    C           Bm         G
But somehow you missed the plane.
    Bsus4        Bm7
You did too much E,
Dm          Fm6
 Met somebo-dy,
    C
And spent the night,
Bm       G
 Getting caned.



Chorus 4:
        Am
Without girls like you,
              D
There'd be no fun,
     G
We'd go to the club,
                C
And not see any-one.
        Am
Without girls like you,
                 D
There's no night-life,
          G
All those men just,
                 C
Go home to their wives.


Verse 4:
      Bsus4     Bm7
Don't be mad at me,
            Dm      Fm6
'Cuz you're pushing thirty,
         C
And your old tricks,
   Bm     G
No longer work.
                Bsus4
You should have known,
         Bm7
From the job,
         Dm         Fm6
That you always get dumped,
   C             Bm      G
So dust off your fuck me pumps.