Hey little party girl,
Where do you wanna go?
I didn’t come from your scene,
So many people that I should know
Like every door guy in this city
Only looks at you ‘cause you’re pretty
And the boutique girls and theme night druggies
Take you in the back
(You put your head on the mirror)
And ooh, baby keeps it with her now,
And ooh, baby’s got a handful of things she calls excuses
Yeah you’re real pretty pretty,
You’re pretty strung-out for a girl
Maybe there’s a gas station open
And a little money on my card,
So I can buy some half-and-half,
‘Cause even the mornings, they seem so hard
And look at you, you never fell to bed,
You’re still typing on your phone with your cigarette
Saying I should stop being so cynical,
‘Cause we’re hotter when we don’t give a damn
(So smash your hand in the mirror)
And ooh, baby keeps it with her now,
And ooh, baby’s got a purse full of things she calls excuses
Yeah you’re real pretty pretty,
You’re pretty strung-out for a girl
Ooh, baby keeps it with her now
And ooh, baby’s got a handful of things she calls excuses
Yeah you’re real pretty pretty,
Pretty pretty baby now,
And ooh, baby keeps it with her now
And ooh, baby’s got a mouthful of things she calls excuses
Yeah you’re real pretty pretty,
You’re pretty strung-out for a girl
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