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
And that's you,
Bm G
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.
Am
You don't like players,
D
That's what you say-a,
G
But you really,
Wouldn't mind,
C
A million-aire.
Am
You don't like ballers,
They don't do,
D
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
And you didn't even,
Bm G
Get no text.
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.
Am
You don't like players,
D
That's what you say-a,
https://www.coveralia.com/acordes/f----me-pumps-amy-winehouse.php
G
But you really,
Wouldn't mind,
C
A million-aire.
Am
You don't like ballers,
They don't do,
D
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
But somehow you,
Bm G
Missed the plane.
Bsus4 Bm7
You did too much E,
Dm Fm6
Met somebo-dy,
C
And spent the night,
Bm G
Getting caned.
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
So dust off your,
Bm G
Fuck me pumps.
