...FUCK ME PUMPS... by Amy Winehouse
-------------------.................

*from 'Frank' (2004)*


Verse 1:

         Bsus4       Bm7          Dm             Fm6
When you walk in the bar, and you dressed like a star,
C             Bm   G
 Rockin' your F me pumps.
        Bsus4      Bm7            Dm        Fm6
And the men notice you, with your Gucci bag crew,
      C             Bm      G
Can't tell who he's lookin' to.
         Bsus4        Bm7         Dm             Fm6
'Cuz you all look the same; every-one knows your name,
    C                Bm       G
And that's you whole claim to fame.
   Bsus4      Bm7         Dm            Fm6
Ne-ver miss a night, 'cuz your dream in life,
      C         Bm      G
Is to be a foot-ballers wife.

Chorus 1:

               Am                       D
You don't like players, that's what you say-a,
        G                              C
But you really wouldn't mind a million-aire.
               Am                             D
You don't like ballers, they don't do nothing for ya,
          G                C
But you'd love a rich man, six feet two or taller.

Verse 2:

       Bsus4       Bm7       Dm        Fm6
You're more than a fan, look-in' for a man,
        C           Bm        G
But you end up with one-night-stands.
         Bsus4         Bm7          Dm           Fm6
He could be your whole life, if you got past one night,
    C         Bm         G
But that part never goes right.
       Bsus4          Bm7         Dm       Fm6
In the morning you're vexed, he's onto the next,
        C           Bm     G
And you didn't even get no taste.
      Bsus4     Bm7          Dm         Fm6
Don't be too up-set, if they call you a skank,
              C           Bm          G
'Cuz like the news; every-day you get pressed.

Chorus 2:

               Am                       D
You don't like players, that's what you say-a,
        G                              C
But you really wouldn't mind a million-aire.
               Am                             D
You don't like ballers, they don't do nothing for ya,
          G                C
But you'd love a rich man, six feet two or taller.

Verse 3:

    Bsus4          Bm7             Dm            Fm6
You can't sit down right, 'cuz you jeans are too tight,
         C          Bm     G
And your lucky it's ladies night.
          Bsus4     Bm7          Dm           Fm6
With your big empty purse, every week it gets worse,
   C                  Bm             G
At least your breasts cost more than hers.
       Bsus4   Bm7          Dm            Fm6
So you did Mia-mi, 'cuz you got there for free,
    C            Bm         G
But somehow, you missed the plane.
    Bsus4        Bm7 Dm         Fm6
You did too much E;  met somebo-dy,
    C               Bm      G
And spent the night getting caned.

Chorus 4:

        Am                            D
Without girls like you, there'd be no fun;
     G                               C
We'd go to the club, and not see any-one.
        Am                               D
Without girls like you, there's no night-life,
          G                         C
All those men just go home to their wives.

Verse 4:

      Bsus4     Bm7             Dm           Fm6
Don't be mad at me, 'cuz you're pushing thir-ty,
         C          Bm        G
And your old tricks no longer work.
                Bsus4          Bm7           Dm         Fm6
You should have known from the job, that you always get dumped;
   C             Bm      G
So dust off your fuck me pumps.


CHORD DIAGRAMS:
---------------

  Bsus4    Bm7     Dm      Fm6     C       Bm       G      Am      D

 EADGBE  EADGBE  EADGBE  EADGBE  EADGBE  EADGBE  EADGBE  EADGBE  EADGBE
 x24452  x24232  xx0231  1x0110  032010  x24432  320003  x02210  xx0232


Tabbed by Joel from cLuMsY, Bristol, England, 2007 (clumsyband@hotmail.com)