Lyrics
Robert's got a quick hand
He'll look around the room, he won't tell you his plans
He's got a rolled cigarette
Hangin' out his mouth, he's a cowboy kid
Yeah, found a six-shooter gun
Yeah, in his dad's closet, oh, in a box of fun things
I don't even know what
But he's comin' for you, yeah, he's coming for you
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You'd better run, better run, outrun my gun
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You'd better run, better run, faster than my bullet
Daddy works a long day
He be comin' home late, he's coming home late
And he's bringing me a surprise
'Cause the dinner's in the kitchen, and it's packed on ice
I've waited for a long time
Yeah, the slight of my hand is now a quick pull trigger
I reason with my cigarette
And say "your hair's on fire, you must have lost your wits", yeah
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You'd better run, better run, outrun my gun
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You'd better run, better run, faster than my bullet
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You'd better run, better run, outrun my gun
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You'd better run, better run, faster than my bullet
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You'd better run, better run, outrun my gun
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You'd better run, better run, faster than my bullet, yeah
