| I’m from the city where all the kids are pretty but dumb
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| Which is a pity, they just don’t get it
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| They call me crazy because I call me baby
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| And won’t sit like a lady, no way, forget it
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| To all the stoners, the junkies and loners and menthol ciggie smokers
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| I am the queen of everything
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| But to the bullies who made fun of my hoodies
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| And used to say that I couldn’t sing
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| I guess I’ll always be a wannabe, baby
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| Making art, pop music about the drugs I’m using
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| If you want to be a wannabe, baby
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| Then set yourself free and you can be a loser like me
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| I’m way too clever to talk about the weather
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| And every rumour ever made up to fit in
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| Fuck being thinner, I’m done with skipping dinner
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| And looking in the mirror for my ambition
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| To all the critics who listen to my lyrics
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| I’m totally prolific and capable of ruling the world
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| But to the bitches in West born into riches
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| Who think it’s odd that I kiss girls
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| I guess I’ll always be a wannabe, baby
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| Making art, pop music about the drugs I’m using
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| If you want to be a wannabe, baby
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| Then set yourself free and you can be a loser like me
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| You can be a loser like me
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| You can be a loser like me
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| Be a loser like me
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| Be a loser like me
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| Be a loser like me, like me
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| Be a loser like me
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| Be a loser like me
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| Be a loser like me, like me
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| I guess I’ll always be a wannabe, baby
|
| Making art, pop music about the drugs I’m using
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| If you want to be a wannabe, baby
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| Then set yourself free and you can be a loser
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| I will always be a wannabe, baby
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| Making art, pop music about the drugs I’m using
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| If you want to be a wannabe, baby
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| Then set yourself free and you can be a loser like me |