I Punk'd Out the whole situation
Excuse to somebody's face in, yeah
That crock of %#@! is getting rancid

So wake up and stop your little fantasey

You so bad, bad, bad, bad, you're totally wack

You sound nothing like Guns and Roses
you've got a %#@! band, you cannot play
You maybe selling records, but didn't anybody tell you...


Capital Radio is so passé
So who cares if your number one


You broke up our friendship was it worth it?
And who cares, I'm bringing up the past %#@!


It's all, all about your jealousy
People, say that he is f*cking she

Sift through the crap that you can't see
Total lack of faith, It ain't your philosophy


You talk blah, blah, blah, blah, all that shhhhhh (%#@!)
You talk down to me, make me sick
You don't even know me, but my god, you kill me


Your a Pop (*##$!, and you don't care
a myspace !@^%


You wanna be popular, a Top Cat
Second only to none


You gossip like it was so yesterday
You get away with murder the things you say


(Guess what I, think of you now)


I showed love, love, you threw it back in my face
Then you flasshed that pretty smile and then you
dumped me for a rock star boy

to be popular

And even Paris Hilton don't (*##$ that way

so I'm better on my own
on my own,
on my own


Pop(*##$!