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

He said, “Hey, sister, it’s really, really nice to meet ya.”
I just met this 5-foot-7 guy who’s just my type
Like the way he’s speakin’, his confidence is peakin’
Don’t like his baggy jeans but I might like what’s underneath them
And, no, I ain’t been to MIA
I heard that Cali never rains and New York’s wide awake
First let’s see the West End, I’ll show you to my bredrin
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
La, la la, la la, eya
La, la la, la la, eya
La, la la, la la, eya
Will you be my American boy?
American boy

Can we get away this weekend? Take me to Broadway
Let’s go shopping, maybe, then we’ll go to a café
Let’s go on the subway, take me to your hood
I never been to Brooklyn and I’d like to see what’s good
Dressed in all your fancy clothes
Sneakers looking fresh to death, I’m loving those Shell Toes
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

Tell ’em wah gwaan, blud!

Who killing them in the UK?
Everybody going to say “You, K!”
Reluctantly, because 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 oww, oww
Ain’t nothing new now, now
He crazy, I know what you thinking
Ribena, I know what you’re drinking
Rap singer, chain blinger
Holler at the next chick soon as you’re blinking
What’s your persona about this Americana rhymer?
Am I shallow ’cause all my clothes designer?
Uh, dressed smart like a London bloke
Before he speak his suit bespoke
And you thought he was cute before
Look at this pea coat, 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 ca-a-ash
‘Cause a lot of wags want to hear it
And I’m feeling like Mike at his baddest
Like The Pips at their gladdest
And I know they love it
So to hell with all that rubbish

Would you be my love, my love?
Could you be mine?
Would you be my love, my love?
Could you be mine?
Could you be my love, my love?
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