| You got plans for me
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| You’re tryna keep the peace
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| Oh boy you look so cute with your hands hid' behind your back
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| And some answer wrapped 'round your teeth
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| You know you’re being so nice
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| While you’re copping your feel
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| And I don’t really know if I can hold this conversation
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| 'Cause I ain’t gonna keep my chill
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| 'Cause you know I’m bad news
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| I know I’m bad news
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| I don’t got time for you
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| Boys like you are easily pleased, usually
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| I get them all worked up and down on their knees, you see
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| They take my fingers in their mouths like it’s poetry
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| But you’re a little out of touch for me
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| And it’s a little bit too much for me
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| He says he’s got the goods
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| And that’s what makes me bad
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| When really self-entitlement ain’t gonna get me off
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| So that’s why you finish last
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| Yeah, you complain that you’re a nice guy
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| What, you think I’m dumb?
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| Passive-aggressive doesn’t seem or look attractive
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| So I guess you’re all on your lonesome
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| I heard someone say, «You know I’m bad news»
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| I know I’m bad news
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| 'Cause I’m only gonna tell the truth, yeah
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| Boys like you are easily pleased, usually
|
| I get them all worked up and down on their knees, you see
|
| They take my fingers in their mouths like it’s poetry
|
| But you’re a little out of touch for me
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| And, baby, boys like you can’t usually fuck with me
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| They try their best and find they’re shit out of luck with me
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| And 'cause of this they’ll go and scream that it’s misandry
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| So you’re a little bit too much for me
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| I know your tears taste the best-est
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| 'Cause I eat boys like you for breakfast
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| My momma said, «Babe, when you grow up
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| Don’t let the bad boys beat you up»
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| Well baby, I can be a bad boy too
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| So go get ready for a scare 'cause I’m gon' give one to you
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| Boo
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| Boys like you are easily pleased, usually
|
| I get them all worked up and down on their knees, you see
|
| They take my fingers in their mouths like it’s poetry
|
| But you’re a little out of touch for me
|
| And, baby, boys like you can’t usually fuck with me
|
| They try their best and find they’re shit out of luck with me
|
| And 'cause of this they’ll go and scream that it’s misandry
|
| So you’re a little bit too much for me
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| I know your tears taste the best-est
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| 'Cause I eat boys like you |