You're rude
I'd told you not to call me tu*
We don't own anything together
And don't pay the same rent
You spit
And your face is too close
Your breath soaks me
I feel like knocking you down
It's not pretty
To stare at my cleavage
Look at my butt instead, at least
I won't see I'm being checked out
It doesn't surprise me
That you're single
If you continue like that
I'll call my men to knock you out
Oh Yelle! (x4)
The evenings repeat themselves
And look the same, what
If it's not a guy
It's two or three
Sticking to you like wasps
On a jar of Nutella
When the good guys are on the dance floor
Those ones are for you
But he smells strong
The alcohol comes out of his pores
You know that in an hour
You'll find him again in front of the door
With his buddies
Calming him down
And everyone's there to do it
As if they're armed
Oh Yelle! (x4)
I'd like to finally spend an evening without these drags
The girls are beautiful, the guys got on their knees
To offer them a drink, to up the ante
What would the one who wins the dance have to be proud of?
All the elegant, polite boys in suits
Like the ones on the poster above your bed
Since years that they've had you dreaming
The only thing you see is a bunch of drunk guys
Oh Yelle! (x4)
You're rude! (x8) Oh Yelle!