Tekst Utworu

Walk down the street like I run it All the boys say that they love it All the girls, they push and shoving In the club I cause a ruckus Don't repeat that you want it I'm speaking, it's no discussion Headbang it 'til a concussion Three drinks and maybe we fuckin' He wanna mess with my makeup But his face kinda ugly When I get real fucked up He look just like James Dean (Yeah) (Yeah) He look just like James Dean (Yeah) (Tell me, are you ready to make some) (Yeah) Latex, lipstick, high heels, my credit card declined Money on the bed when we fuckin' from behind Clothes off, stereo on, I party every night Latex, lipstick, high heels He look just like James Dean (Yeah) (Tell me, are you ready to make) (Yeah) He look just like James Dean (Tell me, are you ready to make some) Make a bitch wanna slit her wrists He ain't ever met another girl like this I don't need ass when I'm Miss New Tits I don't need cash, I don't pay for shit She wanna sound like Slayyyter but it's not hitting It's my track that the DJ's be spinning It's not you whores that keep on, keep winnin' I heard your new song and, bitch, it's not giving, ah He look just like James Dean (Tell me, are you ready to make some)
Writer(s): Jonathan Bach, Nicolas Dipietrantonio, Catherine Garner, Owen Jackson, Jacob Decoteau Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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