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Artiest: Natalia Kills - Songtitle: Hot Mess

Origineel

We like boys, we like cars We like looking like we stars We so fly, we so far We leave that other shit at Mars All my chicks, with your hips Make them heads flick flick Make the camera man ignore the rest and click click All all these dirty nasty girls Give us dirty nasty looks Push me over trying to run to the spotlight Got got her hooker heels on got acrylics diamond thong I can look the same Now what she had on last night Hot mess, hot hot mess She’s a hot mess Hot mess, hot hot mess Jocking on my hotness Hot mess, hot hot mess She’s a hot mess Hot mess, hot hot mess Jocking on my hotness Louboutin Louboutin All the red you painted on I can tell, fake Chanel We can see that double L On the floor, she’s a whore Shirt so tight it’s just a bra Bending over for the world to see your coin slot In in the back seat of the car Getting kicked out of the bar Throwing up all on your best friend’s new purse Girl girl you thought he loves you now Cuz he bought a couple of rounds When he left your house he didn’t leave his number Hot mess, hot hot mess She’s a hot mess Hot mess, hot hot mess Jocking on my hotness Hot mess, hot hot mess She’s a hot mess Hot mess, hot hot mess Jocking on my hotness I’m not the kind of girl getting dressed in the dark I’ve got a mirror in my purse and a fog on my arm I’ll be exclusive for my Gucci, but a whore for Dior It’s not the labels or the tables, but how we got it all No this ain’t fashion week I can let my clothe and my actions speak Straw Carabella and my coat Margiela Don’t look at the weather Just whether I see my face on TV next time maybe Girls cold their eye cuz they so mad I could look fresh in a potato sack Tell me what kind of chapeau is that Que c’est sa vie? How they say in France when I’m walking past Shirt so hot, shoes so hot Talk to me babe, show me what you got Walk for me babe, show me what you got That shirt so hot, shoes so hot Talk to me babe, show me what you got Walk for me babe, show me what you got Show me what you got got got Hot mess, hot hot mess She’s a hot mess Hot mess, hot hot hot mess Jocking on my hotness Hot mess, hot hot mess She’s a hot mess Hot mess, hot hot hot mess Jocking on my hotness Hot mess, hot hot mess She’s a hot mess Hot mess, hot hot hot mess Jocking on my hotness Hot mess, hot hot mess She’s a hot mess Hot mess, hot hot hot mess Jocking on my hotness We houden van jongens, we houden van auto’s We houden ervan om er als sterren uit te zien We zijn zo , we zijn zo ver We laten die zever op mars Al mijn meiden, met jullie heupen Laat de hoofden flick flick Maak dat de camera man de rest negeert en klik klik Al die smerige, vulgaire meiden Geven ons smerige, vulgaire looks Proberen me weg te duwen om in de schijnwerper te staan. Ze heeft haar vuile hakken aan. Heeft een acryl tong. Ik zie er het zelfde uit. Wat ze had vorige nacht.

Vertaling

We like boys, we like cars We like looking like we stars We so fly, we so far We leave that other shit at Mars All my chicks, with your hips Make them heads flick flick Make the camera man ignore the rest and click click All all these dirty nasty girls Give us dirty nasty looks Push me over trying to run to the spotlight Got got her hooker heels on got acrylics diamond thong I can look the same Now what she had on last night Hot mess, hot hot mess She’s a hot mess Hot mess, hot hot mess Jocking on my hotness Hot mess, hot hot mess She’s a hot mess Hot mess, hot hot mess Jocking on my hotness Louboutin Louboutin All the red you painted on I can tell, fake Chanel We can see that double L On the floor, she’s a whore Shirt so tight it’s just a bra Bending over for the world to see your coin slot In in the back seat of the car Getting kicked out of the bar Throwing up all on your best friend’s new purse Girl girl you thought he loves you now Cuz he bought a couple of rounds When he left your house he didn’t leave his number Hot mess, hot hot mess She’s a hot mess Hot mess, hot hot mess Jocking on my hotness Hot mess, hot hot mess She’s a hot mess Hot mess, hot hot mess Jocking on my hotness I’m not the kind of girl getting dressed in the dark I’ve got a mirror in my purse and a fog on my arm I’ll be exclusive for my Gucci, but a whore for Dior It’s not the labels or the tables, but how we got it all No this ain’t fashion week I can let my clothe and my actions speak Straw Carabella and my coat Margiela Don’t look at the weather Just whether I see my face on TV next time maybe Girls cold their eye cuz they so mad I could look fresh in a potato sack Tell me what kind of chapeau is that Que c’est sa vie? How they say in France when I’m walking past Shirt so hot, shoes so hot Talk to me babe, show me what you got Walk for me babe, show me what you got That shirt so hot, shoes so hot Talk to me babe, show me what you got Walk for me babe, show me what you got Show me what you got got got Hot mess, hot hot mess She’s a hot mess Hot mess, hot hot hot mess Jocking on my hotness Hot mess, hot hot mess She’s a hot mess Hot mess, hot hot hot mess Jocking on my hotness Hot mess, hot hot mess She’s a hot mess Hot mess, hot hot hot mess Jocking on my hotness Hot mess, hot hot mess She’s a hot mess Hot mess, hot hot hot mess Jocking on my hotness We houden van jongens, we houden van auto’s We houden ervan om er als sterren uit te zien We zijn zo , we zijn zo ver We laten die zever op mars Al mijn meiden, met jullie heupen Laat de hoofden flick flick Maak dat de camera man de rest negeert en klik klik Al die smerige, vulgaire meiden Geven ons smerige, vulgaire looks Proberen me weg te duwen om in de schijnwerper te staan. Ze heeft haar vuile hakken aan. Heeft een acryl tong. Ik zie er het zelfde uit. Wat ze had vorige nacht.