Sportswear Lyrics - Rat Boy

I've got a funny feeling in my stomach 

But that don't matter because me and you are always into something 

Whether it be riding, walking home drenched in the freezing cold 

Or entering town where the postboxes now say sold 

Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop I won't stop it 

Hand me your car keys I'll try unlock it 

Sitting on the backseat of that worn out interior 

Blatantly looked down on by all our superiors 

Ed Hardy jeans with broken dreams stitched in between the seams 

And that boy in a bivvy looks about 13 trying to sell sticks claimed to be weed 

Laugh right out loud for you and your wannabe crew 

In your body warmer Nike 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 tattooed 

She's on her own tryna get your baby some food 

Ed Hardy jeans with broken dreams stitched in between the seams 

Rat boy in a bivvy looks about 13 trying to sell sticks claimed to be weed 

They 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've never got nothing from anyone 

Clichè 

I'm sitting on my curb while my mate's rolling a fag 

Ed Hardy jeans with broken dreams stitched in between the seams 

Rat boy in a bivvy looks about 13 trying to sell sticks claimed to be weed 

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