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Pimp
The Fratellis
Text File
C5 G5 C5
C5 G5 C5 x2
C5 G5 C5 G5 C5 G5 C5
La la la la la la lo,
La la la la la la lo,
La la la la la la lo,
La la la la la la lo
C5
One time, two time,
G5 C5 G5 C5 G5 C5
C5
Givin' me a slow one,
C5
Flippin' lovers hands,
G5 C5 G5 C5 G5 C5G5 C5
With a trigger of a handgun
C5
Three time, four time,
G5 C5 G5 C5 G5 C5
C5
Throw me on a big bed,
C
Open up yer mouth,
G5 C5 G5 C5 G5 C5G5 C5
I'll put a bullet in yer dumb head
(Oh)
Riff
e -------------------------------------------8--|
B -------6-6h7p6-----------------6-6h7p6--------|
G -5--7----------7--5------5--7----------7------|
D ----------------------------------------------|
A ----------------------------------------------|
E ----------------------------------------------|
C5
Blip blip she shifts,
G5 C5 G5 C5 G5 C5G5 C5
Smells of a little hot sun,
C5
I know she can dance,
G5 C5 G5 C5 G5 C5G5 C5
But she really is a fat one,
C5
Well I must admit I was a little scared,
G5 C5 G5 C5 G5 C5
C5
When she got undressed,
C5
And it was bang bang bang,
G5
But she wasn't impressed
F5 G5
And it's all sick n gentle,
F5 C5
It's all fuckin' mental,
F5 G5 F5 C5
It's all over before it begins
F5 G5
And it's all worse than dying,
F5 C5
It's all terrifing
F5 G5 F5 C5
It's all little pistols and pimps
(Play riff over this)
Lying on this big girls floor,
Tell me something,
Tell me more,
Pistols on her swollen bed,
Pointing at my aching head
C5 G5
C5 G5 C5 G5 C5 G5 C5
C5 G5
C5 G5 C5 G5 C5 G5 C5
There was a singer in the windows,
And a humming in my poor head, C5 G5 C5
C5 G5 C5
She was smoking in the corner,
And said I hope you, don't you feel dead C5 G5 C5 G5 C5 G5 C5
Well I must admit I was a little scared
When she got undressed, C5 G5 C5 G5 C5
C5
C5 G5 C5 G5 C5G5 C5 G5 C5
It was bang bang bang, but she wasn't impressed
F5 G5
And it's all sick n gentle,
F5 C5
It's all fuckin' mental,
F5 G5 F5 C5
It's all over before it begins
F5 G5
And it's all worse than dying,
F5 C5
It's all terrifing
F5 G5 F5 C5
It's all little pistols and pimps
(Play riff over this)
Lying on this big girls floor,
Tell me something,
Tell me more,
Pistols on her swollen bed,
Pointing at my aching head
(Play riff over this)
Chase me half way down the street,
Shootin' at my aching feet,
Got no I.D,
Got no clothes,
Am I dead?
Christ only knows