Keith Harris - American Boy lyrics

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Keith Harris - American Boy lyrics

[Intro: Kanye West] This a number one champion sound Yeah, Estelle, we about to get down Who the hottest in the world right now? Just touched down in London town Bet they give me a pound Tell them put the money in my hand right now Tell the promoter we need more seats We just sold out all the floor seats [Hook 1: Estelle] Take me on a trip I'd like to go some day Take me to New York, I'd love to see LA I really want to come kick it with you You'll be my American boy [Verse 1: Estelle] He said, "Hey, sister, it's really, really nice to meet ya." I just met this 5-foot-7 guy who's just my type Like the way he's speakin', his confidence is peakin' Don't like his baggy jeans But I might like what's underneath them And, no, I ain't been to MIA I heard that Cali never rains and New York's wide awake First let's see the West End, I'll show you to my bredrin I'm liking this American boy, American boy [Hook 1: Estelle] Take me on a trip I'd like to go some day Take me to New York, I'd love to see LA I really want to come kick it with you You'll be my American boy [Verse 2: Estelle] Can we get away this weekend? Take me to Broadway Let's go shopping, baby, then we'll go to a café Let's go on the subway, take me to your hood I never been to Brooklyn and I'd like to see what's good Dressed in all your fancy clothes Sneakers looking fresh to d**h, I'm loving those Shell Toes Walking that walk, talk that slick talk I'm liking this American boy, American boy [Hook 1: Estelle] Take me on a trip I'd like to go some day Take me to New York, I'd love to see LA I really want to come kick it with you You'll be my American boy [Interlude: Estelle] Tell 'em wah gwaan, blud! [Verse 3: Kanye West] Who k**ing them in the UK? Everybody going to say "You, K!" Reluctantly, because most of this press don't f** with me Estelle once said to me, "Cool down, down Don't act a fool now, now." I always act a fool oww, oww Ain't nothing new now, now He crazy, I know what you thinking Ribena, I know what you're drinking Rap singer, chain blinger Holler at the next chick soon as you're blinking What's your persona about this Americana rhymer? Am I shallow ‘cause all my clothes designer? Dressed smart like a London bloke Before he speak his suit bespoke And you thought he was cute before Look at this pea coat, tell me he's broke And I know you ain't into all that I heard your lyrics, I feel your spirit But I still talk that ca-a-ash ‘Cause a lot of wags want to hear it And I'm feeling like Mike at his baddest Like The Pips at their gladdest And I know they love it So to hell with all that rubbish [Bridge: Estelle] Would you be my love, my love? Could you be mine? Would you be my love, my love? Could you be mine? Would you be my love, my love? Would you be my American boy, American boy? [Hook 2: Estelle] Take me on a trip, I'd like to go some day Take me to Chicago, San Francisco bay I really want to come kick it with you You'll be my American boy, American boy