Take your parents credit cards Buy a bunch of crap that you don't need And will never ever use Your mom and dad are out of town And they trust you implicitly A rubber chicken for the mail man Is on your horizon
And there is nothing That I'd rather do And there is nothing That I'd rather do
Your sugar daddy's turning 50 He shops for you indiscreetly A fashion show In his penthouse and black silk kimono Step out into your short shorts Put out as often as you need to To make his summer #1
And there is nothing That I'd rather do And there is nothing That I'd rather do
Версия для печати