| An angel, standing right there before my very eyes
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| A vision on the arm of another man, but baby this should come as no surprise
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| And I want to let him know what a pussy he is
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| And I want to let her know that I match what he is
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| But I won’t
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| 'Cause I heard him say something and I can’t seem to forget and I want him to
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| regret it
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| So I’ll you something sister, I’m feeling mighty fine
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| You tell that little faggot call me faggot one more time
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| Where I’m from little darling, opinion ain’t a crime
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| You’ll see his face tomorrow gonna wish that you were mine
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| Darling, I want you to know that I heard what he said
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| And that’s okay
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| I’m pretty cooked but my shit is far from dead
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| Well I saw you last week and you looked real nice
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| Outside the super club, I was behind frothy dice
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| And I know
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| That we only just met but I think this is real and I want you to feel it
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| So tell me something baby, tell me I ain’t fine
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| I feel like Marlon Brando circa 1999
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| Hold on little darling, these feelings make me shine
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| You see me out here dancing bet you wish that you were mine
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| But I know
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| Your friends are gonna talk about me, saying I’m the one to blame
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| But that bloke should have kept quiet baby, why’d he go and speak my name?
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| I know
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| I guess I just want you to be with me
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| I want you to say that my hair looks nice and my face has a Beckham-like quality
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| And I know that I blew it and I know it ain’t right to be calling men faggots
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| and to be starting fights
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| But I can’t stop
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| I’m a dam overflowing and I’m a river run wild and I guess it’s about that time
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| I feel like Marlon Brando, feel like Marlon Brando, feel like Marlon Brando,
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| feel it, feel it |