American Boy

Just the number one champion sound
Yeah Estelle, we about to get down (Get down)
Who the hottest in the world right now?
Just touched down in London town
Better give me a pound
Tell 'em put the money in my hand right now
Tell the promoter we need more seats
We just sold out all the floor seats

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

Hey sister
It's really really nice to meet ya
I just met this 5 foot 7 guy who's just my type
I like the way he's speaking
His confidence is peaking
Don't like his baggy jeans but I'ma like what's underneath them
And no, I ain't been to MIA
I heard that Cali never rains and New York always waits
First let's see the West End
I'll show you to my bedroom
I'm liking this American boy, American boy

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, American boy

Can we get away this weekend?
Take me to Broadway
Let's go shopping baby, then we'll go to a cafe
Let's go on the subway
Take me to your hood
I've never been to Brooklyn but I'd like to see what's good
Dressed in all your fancy clothes
Sneakers looking fresh to death, I'm loving those shelltoes
Walking that walk
Talk that slick talk
I'm liking this American boy, American boy

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

Kellin what, what, blood?
Who Kellin? I'm in the UK
Everybody gonna say UK
Reluctantly, 'cause most of this press don't fuck with me
Estelle once said to me, "Cool down, down
Don't act a fool now, now"
I always act a fool, ow, ow
Ain't nothing new now, now
He crazy, I know what you're thinking
Ribena, I know what you're drinking
Rap singer, Chamberlain-er
Holla at the next chick soon as you're blinking
What's your persona?
About this Americana-rama
Am I shallow 'cause all my clothes designer?
Uh, dress smart like a London bloke
Before he speak his suit bespoke
And you thought he was cute before
Look at this peacoat, 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 cash
'Cause a lot of wags wanna hear it
And I'm feeling like Mike at his baddest
Like the pimps and the Gladys
And I know they love it
So to hell with all that rubbish

Would you be my love, my love?
(Would you be mine?)
Would you be my love, my love?
(Would you be mine?)
Could you be my love, my love?
Ooh, would you be my American boy, American boy?

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

La, la, la, la, la, eya
La, la, la, la, la, eya