| Where is my shit?
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| Oh
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| You know it
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| She’s making love for breakfast
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| In Venice
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| In the little white house with rent control
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| She’s got
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| Turquoise tiles on the counter in the kitchen
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| She cooks she listens to Nina Simone
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| And all the hipsters on the east side
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| They think they’re too cool for school
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| But they don’t know
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| She’s the queen of the west side
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| And she rocks me to my soul
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| She rocks me to my soul
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| She’s sunbathing in her bare skin
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| I’m jealous of the light shining on her back
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| «Where is my shit?»
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| Well, I’m walking down Montana and I’m singing I’m in heaven
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| Hoping that she asks me to come back
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| All the know it alls on the Northside
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| They think they know
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| They dont know
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| What I know
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| She’s the Queen of the Westside
|
| Yes she is
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| She rocks me to my soul
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| She rocks me to my soul
|
| She rocks me to my soul |