diwane ye ladke kudiyo pe marte hai
kudiyo jaise fashion dekho ye karte hai
kano me ye bali dekho chaal uspe matwali dekho
bekar hai koi kaam ye karte na dharte hai
gap shap me in logo ke din raat gujarte hai

is nayi gali ke ladko ki kudiyo ki tarah hi murat hai
kya khub safa chat muche hai
kya chikni chikni surat hai
ye gaal gulabi hai inke ye baal bhi lambe lambe hai
koi mardo jaise baat nahi ye chalte firte khambe hai
are jab dekho in chikno ko ye hamse ladte hai
apne maa bap ki daulat pe kambakhat akadte hai

diwani ye kudiya ladko pe marti hai
isiliye ladko ki ye copy karti hai
kate hue ye baal dekho tedhi medhi ye chaal dekho
ladke hai aage aage ye piche chalti hai
hum kyu na inko chede ye hamse jalti hai

ladko ki tarah hi ye kudiya peeti hai or peelati hai
sare aam ye sigrate fukti hai
fir kya kya nakhre dikhati hai
ye cap lagati hai dekho ye jean inhone pahni hai
aurat ki tarah sadi pahne ye bat hame bas kahni hai
ye jaan bujh ke ulte hi rashto pe chalti hai
khati hai jab thokar to hatho ko malti hai
are diwane ye ladke kudiyo pe marte hai
isiliye ladko ki ye copy karti hai
kano me ye bali dekho tedhi medhi ye chaal dekho
bekar hai koi kaam ye karte na dharte hai
hum kyu na inko chede ye hamse jalti hai

These boys, they swoon for girls, you see,
Mimicking their fashion, wild and free.
Earrings dangle, a swaying stride,
Doing nothing useful, nowhere to hide.
Gossip fills their days and nights, it's true.

This new street's boys, their forms so like the girls,
Such clean-shaven cheeks, their world unfurls.
Cheeks of rose, long flowing hair,
No manly talk, just pillars standing there.
Always these smooth ones, they pick a fight with us,
And on their parents' wealth, they strut and fuss.

These girls, they swoon for boys, it seems,
Copying their ways, their hopes, their dreams.
Short-cropped hair, a crooked pace,
Boys ahead, they trail behind, in this race.
Why shouldn't we tease them? They burn with spite.

Girls like boys, they drink and they maintain,
Smoking cigarettes for all to see, again.
Then what tantrums they now throw,
Wearing caps, in jeans they go.
Like women, they wear a sari, you see,
This is what we must all agree.
They deliberately stray on paths askew,
And when they stumble, they wring their hands, it's true.
These boys, they swoon for girls, you see,
And copy their ways, constantly.
Earrings dangle, a swaying stride,
Doing nothing useful, nowhere to hide.
Why shouldn't we tease them? They burn with spite.