All the « bad boys » want some brawl, it’s trickyAnd girls enjoy, they feel so luckyLaughing at weeds running out the door,Calling their mom when they lick the floor(Look how) Those funky monkeys talk and walk in storeThey’re lost, sad and brawny like an apple coreWho can believe that there will be some goreWith those wimps like I said beforeIt ain’t right, babe, noIt ain’t right, no noMama, don’t do that you knowIt ain’t right, yeah, boy boy. »Bad boys » are not so pickyThey ride away and feel so happyTo fight for girls they do adoreSnorting like boars rolling on the floorWith their leather jacket and their rocky voiceThey hit, fight, kick, wreak havoc and rejoiceNobody knows what they are looking forA kind of battle axe or maybe moreIt ain’t right, babe, noIt ain’t right, no noMama, don’t do that you knowIt ain’t right, yeah, boy boy.When a bad boy tramp sounds, its’ freakyCause you’re afraid, remember he’s lankyDon’t rate him even he gets soreCross the river and roam the shore