| See them on their big bright screen
|
| Tan and blonde and seventeen
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| Eating nonfood keeps them mean
|
| But they’re young forever
|
| If they must grow up, they marry dukes and earls
|
| I hate California girls
|
| They ain’t broke, so they put on airs
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| The faux folks sans derrieres
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| They breathe coke and have affairs
|
| With each passing rock star
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| They come on like squares
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| Then get off like squirrels
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| I hate California girls
|
| Looking down their perfect noses at me and my kind
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| Do they think we won’t
|
| Well, never mind
|
| Laughing through their perfect teeth
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| At everyone I know
|
| Do they think we won’t
|
| Get up and go?
|
| So…
|
| I have planned my grand attacks
|
| I will stand behind their backs
|
| With my brand-new battle axe
|
| Then they will they taste my wrath
|
| They will hear me say
|
| As the pavement whirls
|
| «I hate California girls…»
|
| They will hear me say
|
| As the pavement whirls
|
| «I hate California girls…»
|
| They will hear me say
|
| As the pavement whirls
|
| «I hate California girls…»
|
| They will hear me say
|
| As the pavement whirls
|
| «I hate California girls…»
|
| They will hear me say
|
| As the pavement whirls
|
| «I hate California girls…» |