| Oh, I just love the kind of woman who can walk over a man
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| I mean like a god damn marching band
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| She says, like literally, music is the air she breathes
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| And the malaprops make me want to fucking scream
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| I wonder if she even knows what that word means
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| Well, it’s literally not that
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| Of the few main things I hate about her, one’s her petty, vogue ideas
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| Someone’s been told too many times they’re beyond their years
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| By every half-wit of distinction she keeps around
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| And now every insufferable convo
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| Features her patiently explaining the cosmos
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| Of which she’s in the middle
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| Oh my God, I swear this never happens
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| Lately, I can’t stop the wheels from spinning
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| I feel so unconvincing
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| And I fumbled with the buttons
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| She blames her excess on my influence but gladly Hoovers all my drugs
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| I found her naked with the best friend in the tub
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| We sang «Silent Night"in three parts which was fun
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| Til she said that she sounds just like Sarah Vaughan
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| I hate that soulful levitation white girls put on
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| Why don’t you move to the Delta?
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| I obliged later on when you begged me to choke ya |