For The Bitches

She picks the phone up, no one to talk to Don't wanna go out, Postmates and vodka She has blowouts, they come for a fix They don't even know her, they don't even know her They don't drive, no not in this city They just ride, past the people they pity They get fucked up and move on They get fucked up and move on I feel bad for the bitches, bitches I feel bad for the bitches, bitches Diamonds all in their stitches Can't feel what they're missing I feel bad for them House in the Hamptons, so many cars She's got daddy's Amex, but she can't get his heart They show off a photo, just to impress They don't even know her, they don't even know her They don't drive, no not in this city They just ride, past the people they pity They get fucked up and move on They get fucked up and move on I feel bad for the bitches, bitches I feel bad for the bitches, bitches Diamonds all in their stitches Can't feel what they're missing And I feel bad for them Oh, and I feel bad for the bitches, bitches I feel bad for the bitches, bitches Diamonds all in their stitches Can't feel what they're missing And I feel bad for them Oh, oh-oh Oh, oh-oh Oh, I feel bad for the bitches, bitches I feel bad for the bitches, bitches Diamonds all in their stitches Can't feel what they're missing And I feel bad for them Oh, and I feel bad for the bitches, bitches I feel bad for the bitches, bitches Diamonds all in their stitches Can't feel what they're missing And I feel bad for them