"Just Another Boyband" lyrics

I see you, baby, doing the dance that I saw on the TV
(Doing a dance, I wonder what's going on in your pants)
You know me, baby
If I sing my song, you're bound to recognize me
(And you'll sing along, I wonder what's going on in your thong)

Your heart is mine
Notice that I'm singing you lines
From one of our number ones
When you get home, then you will know
(Fucking hell, can you not tell? Ha!)

We're just another boy band
We'll tear your little sister's heart apart
We're just a fucking boy band
You might not like us, but we're in the charts
And in a motherfucking boy band
The girls are underage, but we don't care
And when you throw your panties at a boy band
After the shows, we keep your underwear

Don't know if it comes as a big surprise
I'm the token rapper guy
I just sing really high and needlessly, randomly improvise
And when our album flops
And all the hope around us dies
I am the secret weapon that comes out and says that he likes kissing guys
What?

Drink, what? We piss
Shag, what? We kiss
Live how we wish, it's not that easy being me
We may be men, like Action Men
Our record label made us unable to fu—

We're just another boy band
We'll tear your little sister's heart apart
We're just a fucking boy band
You might not like us, but we're in the charts
And in a motherfucking boy band
The girls are underage, but we don't care
And when you throw your panties at a boy band
After the shows, we keep your underwear

We're all doin' things that we know ain't right
We wearing sunglasses at night
We got one hundred fans, that's why we're better than your band
The only fan you have is cooling you down
And it seems to be the only thing that's movin' around and around
Just like a circle, we're simple, yet well known
We're all so square, we find it hard to go out on our own (Without a problem)
Got a problem? I'll knock you out, alright?
But please don't punch me back, we've got a photo shoot tonight

Boy band
We hear the birds around us singing
We're just a fucking boy band
We're flying, but we don't have wings
And in a motherfucking boy band
The girls are underage, but we don't care
And when you throw your panties at a boy band
After the shows, we keep your underwear

We're just another boy band
We'll tear your little sister's heart apart
We're just a fucking boy band
You might not like us, but we're in the charts
And in a motherfucking boy band
We live a life being celebrity A-lists
And when you take your chances in a boy band
You can't say shit, 'cause shit don't get on the playlist

We're just another boy band, boy band
We're just another boy band, boy band

[The Secret Track:]

Uh
Okay
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Howdy, partner, my name's Stef
Rhymes so bad, I'll rhyme you to death
My English teacher said I should quit
When I rock the mic, I rock the mic shit
Freestyler Stef, that's my name
Being a massive player's my game
If you can't handle it, I'll put you in pain
You'll end up in the hospital, Wayne
Bruce Wayne, th-that's what I mean
Batman and the Robin team
With his dick, that's his weapon
Weapon of choice
Hello, everybody, my name is Stef
Another introduction, put— Rhyme you to death
The same old words, used again
Recycling, that's my—
That's my art, I'm good at art
Not good at painting, not good at fart
Everybody knows that I'm a really good rapper
Everybody knows Parappa The Rapper
The game on PlayStation, PS1
Hello, girls! Le— Come to the club
We'll dance, we'll...
We'll hug, we'll kiss, we'll snog
One, two, three
I'm a rapper, Stefan James Donald John Abingdon
Everybody knows that I'm number one
In the club, I do dances, put you trances
I've said that line before
It's recyclin', I've even recycled the "recycling" line, motherfucker, woo, yeah!
Uh, TMB, The Midnight Beast
Dru's allergic to gluten and yeast
Is it yeast, Dru? (Gluten)
Gluten, gluten, sausages, gluten
I'm a rapper from the bad rap—
I'm from a bad neighbourhood called Fulham
We don't—
I can't think of anymore
Um, okay, uh

We can't rap or freestyle that well
That's why we made the chorus catchy as hell
We can't rap, and our freestyle is wack
But what do you expect from the secret track?

Yeah
Funky beats
Nasty, dirty sex music
And the beat goes, and the beat goes

My name is Dru, and I like to party
I really don't look like Tom fucking Hardy
Sometimes, my bum goes a little bit farty
But, hey...
Sorry
Arguably, the worst rapper alive
But what other rapper's still drinking Five Alive?
Got some daddy issues, have some tissues
Thanks, Mister
And you know that I really be spittin' this lyrical shit
Person Pitch, sounds a bit like Passion Pit
What is this? Bloody hell
I'm looking at things in the room for inspiration
Yeah, Southwest, you know we Southwest
We rhyme with the tightest
Flyest, it— All along, we tag along
Now you're pregnant too— No, you're not
Whoops, did we have sex? I think not
Weezer, wheezing, it's freezing
What the fuck am I doing in this freezer?
Everything can rhyme with "poo"
I once sat on the loo
And I was nude
What is he saying?
I'm Andrew Francis Wakely
That's right, I got a little bit of French in me
Not in me, up the bum
Just quarter-French, if you're asking
Maybe about a fifth, probably not even that
It's just "Francis", really, it's a name

What is going on?

We can't rap or freestyle that well
That's why we made the chorus catchy as hell
We can't rap, and our freestyle is wack
But what do you expect from the secret track?

Oh yeah
Okay, okay
Here we go, here we go, here we go with the flow

Hello, girl, what's your name?
My name is Ash, I like your name
Yeah, that's right, I rhymed "name" with "name"
But what do you expect when your rapping skills are lame?
Swagger, swagger, I got swagger
Hut-digga-digga-digga, swagger-swagger-swagger
Don't be jealous because I'm badder than you
Badder than you, sadder than you, badder than you
What's my name? My name is Ash
I got loads of cash, I got nappy rash
But what do you expect from a guy from Reading
Who has rapping skills that aren't that very good?
I'm a harsh boy rapper from Reading
I've got really good bedding
It's got really nice feathers in it
It's really soft, really soft, really soft, really soft

My name is Mowgli, I'm from the jungle
I like to swing in the trees
I can't really rap, so I make loud noises
Ha! Huh! Okay!

Bubblegum up my bum, it's really numb
I gotta get it out of there, before it makes my bum all sticky
Jedward, Jedward, what you gonna do next?
How does Eminem rap so well?
Because he's American
And I'm English

Oh my God, oh, wow

We can't rap or freestyle that well
That's why we made the chorus catchy as hell ([?] got me so much swagger)
We can't rap, and our freestyle is wack (I haven't)
But what do you expect from the secret track?

Thumbs up, thumbs up, thumb up my bum up
Ha-ha-ha, so rude!