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外链地址
https://www.eemp3.com/audiofile/2fa5dc63e36c77c9da16778c0de1b3eb.mp3
点击复制I was king of the charts in polyester pants,
Singing slow jams, making grannies dance.
Then I vanished — poof — twenty years in a shed,
Now I’m back with a gut and I’m half-half dead.
But I don’t want violins, don’t want no strings,
I want filthy jokes and a beat that swings.
If it shocks your mum, then I’ve done my job,
’Cause I’m too damn old to give a polite nod.
Fk you, I still got it,
I can make your auntie blush.
Put a swear in a love song,
Watch the pensioners rush.
They said, “Stay classy!” — nah, I won’t.
Fk you, I still got it… don’t pretend you don’t.
Your Spotify kids don’t know my face,
But your dad once cried to my vinyl case.
Now he’s in the crowd yelling, “Play that tune!”
While I’m swearing like a sailor on a honeymoon.
I’ll sing about whiskey, I’ll sing about sex,
About waking up naked, sending awkward texts.
If the censors call, let them bleep each line,
Hell, it might be the only hit song that’s mine!
Fk you, I still got it,
I can make the bishop grin.
Put a chorus on TikTok,
Watch the grandkids sin.
They said, “Play gentle!” — nah, I won’t.
Fk you, I still got it… don’t pretend you don’t.
I did Vegas, I did Top of the Pops,
Now I’m rhyming f**k with chicken shops.
If you wanted romance, sorry — too late,
This comeback’s dirtier than your uncle’s mate.
Fk you, I still got it,
Sing it loud, sing it crude.
If you wanted a ballad,
Well, fk you, dude.
Raise a glass, raise a finger, let’s toast this song —
F**k you, I still got it… been here all along.