Grab Your Coat

It think you’re hot stuff, I’ll get you what you want
‘cuz I’m a rock star, driving fifty cars.
With my champagne, I’ll drive a man insane
I’m telling you, I’m telling you…
 
That you’re my guy, you’re a fine type,
And don’t you ever think about leaving me.
 
Oh it pleases me, to see me on TV
With these Jimi Choos, oh you just can’t loose
Check out my throw-back hair, a female Fred Estaire
Look, I’m on the catwalk, I probably should get stalked.
Isn’t it enough, that I bought you all this…
 
Love is hard to find, but you’re mine,
And don’t you ever think about leaving me.
 
So now you’re leaving me?
This is a wicked dream.
No, it’s a nightmare! What have you got to fear?
Look at your Rolex, what about the hot sex?
And those afternoons, in exclusive parlour rooms?
 
Now I find your love was blind
And don’t you ever think about leaving me.
 
Hey, I think you’re hot stuff. My last guy got a truck
‘cuz I’m a rock star, I’ll buy you what you want. . . .

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