Thump! Thump! Thump!

[Intro — three enormous floor-shaking stomps, then silence] THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! [FuFu, sweetly] Hear that? [beat] You should probably run. [Verse I — stomping rebel-rock groove] They gave me these boots when I was barely grown, White fur, silver toes, made to sell on their own. Had my name on the box and my face on the side, But they missed one little feature in the merchandise guide: They're heavy. They're loud. And, baby, so am I. I don't sneak into trouble, I give trouble time to hide. You can whisper. You can scheme. You can pretend you never knew. But somewhere down the hallway— THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! That's me coming for you. [Verse II — guitars grind harder, boots become percussion] I don't need an entrance theme. Don't need smoke across the floor. Don't need somebody announcing me— I've got two hundred pounds of footwear doing that outside your door. [THUMP] That's your first warning. [THUMP] Second one's free. [THUMP] Third means whatever stupid thing you did has officially involved me. So finish your drink. Call your friends. Say whatever prayers you do. Then listen— THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! That's the sound of these boots comin' for you. [CHORUS — huge, stupidly fun stomp-rock hook] THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! Better move! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! Coming through! White fur, vibranium toes, Baby, you know who! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! Every step says— FUCK. AROUND. [massive stomp] FIND. OUT. [FuFu laughing] God, I love these boots. [Verse III — swaggering, playful, almost country-rock] Some girls wear heels that click real pretty. Mine make seismologists call the fucking city. They've kicked monsters. They've kicked doors. They've kicked things without a name. One producer said, “Could we make them smaller?” We never saw that man again. [innocently] Kidding. [beat] Probably. Anyway— If you see the ears coming, you've still got time to choose. If you hear the buckles rattling... Honey? You've already lost. Because— THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! There's a rabbit on the loose. [CHORUS — louder, gang vocals answering] [FUFU] THUMP! [GANG] She's coming! [FUFU] THUMP! [GANG] Start running! [FUFU] THUMP! [GANG] What'd you do?! [FUFU] Doesn't matter! I'M COMING THROUGH! White fur! Vibranium toes! Guess who's got bad news? THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! That's the sound of these boots— COMIN' FOR YOU! [Verse IV — music drops to boots, bass and FuFu] Here's the thing. I'm actually very reasonable. Ask anybody. [distant voice] “NO!” Shut up. I believe in communication. Second chances. Talking through. I believe most disagreements have a peaceful answer too. But occasionally somebody makes a very special choice. And occasionally that choice requires a somewhat louder voice. [first stomp] You had options. [second stomp] You chose poorly. [long pause] [third, enormous stomp] So... Hi. [FINAL CHORUS — full arena stomp-rock explosion] THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! Shake the room! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! Hear the boom! Big white boots and an exceptionally bad mood! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! No mystery. No subtle clue. If you hear that sound behind you— YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHO! It's FuuuuFu! [Gang vocals] THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! [FUFU] Louder! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! [FUFU] Again! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! That's the sound of these boots— COMIN' FOR YOU! [music cuts] [one last distant] ...thump. [FuFu, cheerfully] Found you.