LYRICS
Use A− / A+ to adjust text sizeSon Of A Gun (I Betcha Think This Song Is About You)
Thought you'd get the money, tooGreedy, greedy, greedyTry to have the cake and eat it, too.[Janet]Sharp shooter into breakin' heartsA baby gigolo, a sex pistolHollerin at everything that walksNo substance, just small talkKnow why you're feelinOn that girls behind,You got a sleazy, one track mindWorkin your work until you findWho's goin home with you tonight.[Janet & Carly Simon]I betcha think this song is about you,I betcha think this song is about you,I betcha think this song is about you,I betcha think this song is about you,Don't you, don't you, don't you.[Janet]Sweatin me but I'm not you're type,You think you irk me, and you're so right,I'd rather keep the trash and throw you out,Stupid b**** in my beach houseNo, I ain't gonna go and act a fool,And be the lead story, on the f**** newsNot me, sucker, I'd never be your lover,I'd rather make you suffer, you stupid motha f*****[Janet]Got a chip upon your shoulder,I just knocked it off,Show me what you're gonna do,I ain't bout to run,You have just run out of ammunition,Shootin blanks now, you son of a gun.[Janet & Carly]I betcha think this song is about you,I betcha think this song is about you,I betcha think this song is about you,I betcha think this song is about you,Don't you, don't you, don't you.[Janet]Ha, ha, who, whoThought you'd get the money, tooGreedy, greedy, greedy
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