Imprimer - Paroles Mania

My pocket don't drive me fast

My mother treats me slow

My statue's got a concrete heart

But you're the coldest bitch I know

In the factory that you call your mind

Graveyard thoughts of stone

A master thief I wouldn't enter there

You've nothing I would care to own, so help me

You're pretending that you got it made

I know you know you know no truth

You're still serving cookies and kool-aid

You're so proper and so cute

My pocket don't drive me fast

My mother treats me slow

My statue's got a concrete heart

But you're the coldest bitch I know, so help me

From Paroles Mania