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When you walk in the bar, |
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And you dressed like a star, |
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Rockin' your F me pumps. |
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And the men notice you, |
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With your Gucci bag crew, |
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Can't tell who he's lookin' to. |
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Cuz you all look the same, |
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Everyone knows your name, |
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And that's your whole claim to fame. |
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Never miss a night, |
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Cuz your dream in life, |
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Is to be a footballer's wife. |
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You don't like players, |
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That's what you say-a, |
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But you really wouldn't mind a millionaire. |
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You don't like ballers, |
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They don't do nothing for ya, |
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But you'd love a rich man six foot two or taller. |
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You're more than a fan, |
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Lookin' for a man, |
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But you end up with one-nights-stands. |
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He could be your whole life, |
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If you got past one night, |
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But that part never goes right. |
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In the morning you're vexed, |
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He's onto the next, |
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And you didn't even get no taste. |
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Don't be too upset, |
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If they call you a skank, |
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Cuz like the news everyday you get pressed. |
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You don't like players, |
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That's what you say-a, |
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But you really wouldn't mind a millionaire. |
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Or them big ballers, |
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Don't do nothing for ya. |
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But you'd love a rich man six foot two or taller, |
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You can't sit down right, |
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Cuz your jeans are too tight, |
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And you're lucky it's ladies night. |
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With your big empty purse, |
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Every week it gets worse, |
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At least your breasts cost more than hers. |
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So you did Miami, |
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Cuz you got there for free, |
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But somehow you missed the plane. |
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You did too much E, |
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Met somebody, |
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And spent the night getting caned. |
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Without girls like you, |
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There'd be no fun, |
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We'd go to the club and not see anyone. |
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Without girls like you, |
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There's no nightlife, |
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All those men just go home to their wives. |
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Don't be mad at me, |
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Cuz you're pushing thirty, |
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And your old tricks no longer work. |
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You should have known from the jump, |
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That you always get dumped, |
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So dust off your fuck me pumps |