rule saare break karo
jo kabhi na kiya wo karo
party karne ka mood bane toh
weekend ka na wait karo (x2)

arey common ye sabke vichar humein chahiye
hufte mein chaar shanivaar hone chahiye
hufte mein chaar shaniwaar hone chahiye
shanivaar bole to saturday wo bhi chaar chaar

kabhi aisa bhi ho suraj chhuti pe ho
ghadi ke kaante mutthi mein hon
in the lambi limo full-on masti bhi ho
saath mein hot beauty bhi ho

are speaker ka volume hazaar hona chahiye
hufte mein char shanivar hone chahiye
hufte mein char shanivar hone chahiye


maine kaha party karo kehna kyun nahi maante
jeene ke din hote hain bas chaar insaan ke
shrmana aur ghabrana yeh dono cheeze chhod do
rules aur dance floor ye dono cheeze tod do

it's your boy badshah! jab ye gana bajega to
automatically hi tu dance karega
kaan ke niche de dunga
jo kabhi faltu bakwaas karega

jisne party nahi karni they can go to hell
bachchan boy is in the house baby all is well
c'mon.. all is well! saal ke yaar gin 365 di
52 hi shaniwaar hai

kar calendar ko flush chhod de saare rush
din jawani ke bas char hai
worldwide yahi prachar hona chahiye
hufte mein char shanivar hone chahiye
hufte mein char shanivar hone chahiye

Shatter the chains of what's been,
Embrace the acts unseen.
If the party's fire ignites within,
No waiting for the weekend's gleam.

Shatter the chains of what's been,
Embrace the acts unseen.
If the party's fire ignites within,
No waiting for the weekend's gleam.

Common thoughts, a shared decree,
Four Saturdays in every week should be!
Four Saturdays, wild and free,
Saturday, oh Saturday, four for thee!

Imagine the sun on holiday,
Time's hands held in your sway.
Long limousines, a vibrant play,
Hot beauties to light the way.
The speaker's roar, a thousandfold,
Four Saturdays, a story told!
Four Saturdays, brave and bold.

I say, "Party," why the frown?
Life's precious days, a fleeting crown.
Shed the shyness, the fearful guise,
Break the rules, and dance, arise!
It's your boy, Badshah's call!

When this rhythm takes its flight,
You'll dance without a fight.
A slap for those who spew the blight,
The ones who choose the dark of night.
Those who shun the party's grace, can go to hell,
But your boy's here, beneath the spell,
Baby, all is well, come on, all is well!

Count the year, three hundred sixty-five,
Only fifty-two Saturdays thrive.
Flush the calendar, leave the rush,
Youth's golden days, a precious hush.
This message, let it spread so wide,
Four Saturdays, side by side!
Four Saturdays, our joyful guide!