Lyrics of 'Trophy Boy (feat. Ashley Tisdale & G.E.M.)' by Avril Lavigne

They call me a damsel in distress 'cause I want my prize
The one with the kingdom and the big brown eyes
The one with the voice that can boom like music
Oh my, oh my, does he know to use it?

I'm not playing with ya
He looks into your eyes
Knows just what to say to ya
He’s so beautiful that’s the consensus
I bet the crown jewels
I will be he’s princes

I like him for his smile
I like him for his hair
I like him for his style
I like him 'cause he’s so debonair
He’s my trophy boy, my trophy boy, my trophy boy

I want him for myself
I wanna lock him down
I want that ring on my finger like I want that crown
He’s my trophy boy, my trophy boy, my trophy boy

He’s so vicious so totally run away
I know I wasn’t listening, but he’s totally funny
I don’t even care if he ever makes a sound
Just as long as when you see me he’s around and he’s bound to me

I like my glass slipper
He fits me so good and a such a good tipper
And you can sing along if you like
For the only known man who looks tough in tights

I like him for his smiles
I like him for his hair
I like him for his style
I like him 'cause he’s so debonair
He’s my trophy boy, my trophy boy, my trophy boy

I want him for myself
I wanna lock him down
I want that ring on my finger like I want that crown
He’s my trophy boy, my trophy boy, my trophy boy

And it’s not just about he’s looks
He’s also got a sensitive side
He has a soul of a poet if you give it the time
And he’s a perfect gentleman classy and antique
Oh, who am I kidding he just got such excellent abs

You can't compete with those fellas (such a clown)
I’ll make the whole kingdom jealous (oh, man)
I just forget my manners
Hello, I'm Cinderella and I need a wedding

I like him for he’s smiles
I like him for he’s hair
I like him for he’s style
I like him 'cause he’s so debonair
He’s my trophy boy, my trophy boy, my trophy boy

I want him for myself
I wanna lock him down
I want that ring on my finger like I want that crown
He’s my trophy boy, my trophy boy, my trophy boy

Oh, my Gosh!
Oh, my Fairy God Mother!
Would you call this boy’s mama
And tell her that I love her

I like him for he’s smiles
I like him for he’s hair
I like him for he’s stout
I like him 'cause he’s so debonair
He’s my trophy boy, my trophy boy, my trophy boy

I want him for myself
I wanna lock him down
I want that ring on my finger like I want that crown
He’s my trophy boy, my trophy boy, my trophy boy