Hey little party girl

Where do you wanna go?

I didn't come from your scene

So many people I should know

Like every door guy in this city

Only lets you in '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 ooooh, baby keeps it with her

Ooh, baby's got a hand full

Of things she calls excuses

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 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 head on the mirror)

And ooooh, baby keeps it with her

Ooh, baby's got a purse full

Of things she calls excuses

You're real, pretty, pretty

You're pretty strung out for a girl