We do the bad boy boogie Have a drink on the boys We'll entertain you in style I got my finger in the pie It's just a lick and a promise In the back seat of my car Found a girl she's mama's pride I tatooed her and now she's mine

I keep telling myself I'm not the desperate type Sitting out dances on the wall Trying to forget everything that isn't you I'm not going home alone 'Cause I don't do too well on my own But you've got me looking in through blinds I'm sleeping my way out

You can't cover it up It's so fitting, so fitting of the way you are Can't cover it up Someone old So douse yourself in cheap perfume Feeling borrowed Always blue Douse yourself in cheap perfume

Well, I'm going to fetch my woman, people When the kid hits Alabama, people Don't you try to dog him 'round Well, I was born in Mississippi And I don't take any stuff from you I've got my pistols in my pockets boys I'm Alabama bound I've got my pistols

And the record won't stop skipping And the lies just won't stop slipping And besides my reputation's on the line We can fake it for the airwaves Force our smiles, baby, half dead From comparing myself to everyone else around me Everyone else around me

My bad, my bad for, trippin' on you (trippin' on you) I've been sippin', that's how I control This feelin', you keep givin' You keep on hittin' it ooh, oh Maybe it's your love, it's too good to be true Baby boy, your love, got me trippin' on you You know

When it's sunny in Seattle and it's snowing down in New Orleans And them boys from Amarillo stop wearin' those boots and jeans When Memphis ain't got the blues That's when I'll stop lovin' you Baby, I don't mind you askin' If there's gonna come a day

Cause I’m a girl Cause I’m a girl, Oh yeah With a bottle of wine and you I’m a girl, I got skills I can dance all night in five inch heels And make you feel like the luckiest boy in the world I can get a free drink for flipping my hair I can rock a

I done told you boy I'm a soldier boy I got no choice but to be a rider I approach you boy with the toaster boy Get to point blank range and fire I ain't tryin' to hear shit I'm supposed to be rich Motherfucker get in the way of my bread Then I'm goin'

I'm a Brooklyn baby He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed I've got feathers in my hair They say I'm too young to love you Well, my boyfriend's in the band I get down to Beat poetry And my jazz collection's rare I can play most anything