that i was trouble

Cause youre my fella, muy guy.

hand me your Stella and fly,

by the time i ´m out the door,

you tear men down like Roger Moore.

I cheated myself again, like i knew i would;

I told you that i was trouble,

you know that im no good.

Upstairs in bed, with my ex boy, he´s in the place but i cant get joy.

Thinking ´bout you in the final throws, this is when my buzzer goes.

There´ll be none of him no more,
I cried for you on the kitchen floor.

Sweet reunion Jamaica and Spain,

we are like we were again.

Im in the tub, you´re on the seat,

lick your lips as i soak my feet.

Then you notice little carpet burns ,

my stomach drops and my guts churn,

you shrug and it´s the worst;

to trutly stuck the knife in first.

I cheated myself like i knew i would,
I told you that i was trouble ,
you know that im no good.