Robert's got a quick hand He'll look around the room He won't tell you his plan He's got a rolled cigarette Hanging out his mouth He's a cowboy kid Yeah he found a six-shooter gun In his dad's closet, in the box of fun things I don't even know what But he's coming for you, yeah he's coming for you All the other kids with the pumped up kicks You better run, better run, outrun my gun All the other kids with the pumped up kicks You better run, better run, faster than my bullet Daddy works a long day He be coming home late, and he's coming home late And he's bringing me a surprise 'Cause dinner's in the kitchen and it's packed in ice I've waited for a long time Yeah the sleight of my hand is now a quick-pull trigger I reason with my cigarette Then say, "Your hair's on fire, you must've lost your wits, yeah?" All the other kids with the pumped up kicks You better run, better run, outrun my gun All the other kids with the pumped up kicks You better run, better run, faster than my bullet Run, run, run, run, ru-ru-ru-run, run, run Ru-ru-ru-run, run, run, run Ru-ru-ru-run, run, run, run, run, run All the other kids with the pumped up kicks You better run, better run, outrun my gun All the other kids with the pumped up kicks You better run, better run, faster than my bulletTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
