Lyrics:

This a number one champion sound
Yeah, Estelle, we about to get down (get down)
Who the hottest in the world right now
Just touched down in London town
Bet they give me a pound
Tell them put the money in my hand right now (yes)
Tell the promoter we need more seats
We just sold out all the floor seats

Take me on a trip, I'd like to go some day
Take me to New York, I'd love to see L.A.
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
I like the way he's speaking, his confidence is peaking
Don't like his baggy jeans, but I'ma like what's underneath them

And no, I ain't been to M-I-A
I heard that Cali never rains and New York's all awake
First let's see the West End, I'll show you to my brethren
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 L.A.
I really want to come kick it with you
You'll be my American boy, American boy

La la-la, la-la dee-ah
La la-la, la-la dee-ah
La la-la, la-la dee-ah
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 caf�
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
Walkin' 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 L.A.
I really want to come kick it with you
You'll be my American boy
Tell 'em wha-what, blood

Who killin' 'em in the U.K.
Everybody gonna to say you, K
Reluctantly, cause most of this press don't fuck wit me
Estelle once said to me, 'Cool down, down
Don't act a fool now, now'
I always act a fool ow, ow
Ain't nothing new, now, now
He crazy, I know what you're thinkin'
Ribena, I know what you're drinkin'
Rap singer, chain blinger
Holla at the next chick soon as you're blinkin'
What's you're persona about this Americana
Brama, am I shallow cause all my clothes designer
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 feelin' like Mike at his baddest
Like the Pips at they Gladys
And I know they love it
So to hell with all that rubbish

Would you be my love, my love (would you be mine)
Would you be my love, my love (could you be mine)
Could you be my love, my love (ooh)
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, (be my) American Boy

Take me on a trip, I'd like to go some day
Take me to New York, I'd love to see L.A.
I really want to come kick it with you
You'll be my American boy, American boy

La la-la, la-la dee-ah
La la-la, la-la dee-ah
La la-la, la-la dee-ah