You think you are so hot
You own the whole wide world
That everybody depends on you
You think thatyou are their muse
Their only hope and cure
So why make it hard
When you could untherstand
That nobody is your fan
That you are nothing more
Than a tiny hore
Iґll have allways thought of you
As a bitch
I know all you do is
Smoke weed
So why think you are a God
When all you are is a slot
No matter what I say
Youґll allways be the same
So why bother and talk straight
When all I can do is
Walk away.
Chorus x3

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