Little Lady (feat. Mikill Pane) - Ed Sheeran

Little Lady (feat. Mikill Pane) - Ed Sheeran (艾德·希兰)/Mikill Pane
Listen
Little lady this is just the worst way to
Spend your birthday
It's 30 degrees Thursday
You work late
You was with a perv
Making dirty fake love in his Mercedes
Lady the word R**e sums up events
That take place every night
You wanna get up
But you no your legs will ache if you try
Then you remember that your punter went crazy last night
You drag yourself to the mirror
To check your face then you cry
Forget the visit to the clinic you was booked in for
You'll make a trip to the Whittington
Were they'll look at your jaw
They'll be inquisitive
And ask about your business for sure
They'll know your fibbing
If you tell them you got hit by a door
But young woman
The pimp see's you as nothing but a dumb h****r
Medical attention could be fatal
Cause the cunt wouldn't ever let a doctor near someone
Thats getting dough for him
Cause next you got poxy authorities
Sticking their noses in
She's just under the upper hand
Goes mad for a couple grams
And she don't wanna go outside tonight
Cos in the pipe she'll fly to the motherland and
Sell love to another man
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly
For angels to fly
Little lady your mind you've made up
Your injurys you can't hide with make-up
You need some medical advice you make up
A little lie to say just
In case the doc opens his eyes
And don't decide to play dumb
With any luck you'll see the same dude
Who stiched your top lip
Last year when your pimp just lost it
He wouldn't recognise you
If you stared him in the face anyway
'Cos all the h****n is making you age
But you're a heroine for taking the strain
Of being a prostitute and punching bag
The funds you have left go
Where your from using moneygram
Mother had to get you out the motherland to study
That was all she struggled to
Have a single daughter with the upper hand
But little does she know
You're never coming back
She put you in her brother's hand
Only for him to formulate another plan
He's the f**king cause of your
Appalling state the summer
Fancy that you came to London to
Get pimped by your Uncle damn
She's just under the upper hand
Goes mad for a couple grams
And she don't wanna go outside tonight
'Cos in the pipe she'll fly to the motherland and
Sell love to another man
It's too cold outside for angels to fly
Now an angel will die covered in white
With closed eyes