Karaoké Son of a Gun (I Betcha Think This Song Is About You) Janet Jackson & Carly Simon, Missy Elliott & Diddy

Ah ah ooh ooh

Thought you'd get the money too

Greedy

Try to have their cake and eat it too

Sharpshooter into breakin' hearts

A baby gigolo, sex pistol

Hollerin' at everything that walks

No substance, just small talk

Know why you're feelin' on that girl's behind

You got a sleazy one track mind

Workin' your work until you think you find

Who's goin' home with you tonight

Changed all the credit cards

Switched the lock to all my doors

You thought my heart would be destroyed

Look around 'cos I'm chillling boy

Whatcha go and get your lawyers for

Makes my dough in just one show, you know

Your lawyer shoulda let you know, you know

When you sue me you gonna be broke, you know

Ain't no way that you could bring me down

Any chick that you stick is real sleazy

Before I need you

I betcha gon' need me

You ain't want me anyway you wanted to be me

What made you think

I'd keep you 'round while I work my ass off and you just lounge

You slum, bum son of a gun

And uh, how much your worth

I think negative Don

Oh oh, who you gonna give it to

Who you gonna steal it from

Who's your next victim

Oh, who you gonna lie to

Who you gonna cheat on

Who you gonna leave alone

Oh, what you gonna tell her after she discovers you don't really love her

Oh, it's gonna be a showdown knock down, drag out gun-slingin' shoot 'em up

I betcha think this song is about you

I betcha think this song is about you

I betcha think this song is about you

I betcha think this song is about you

Don't you, don't you, don't you

Whatchu talkin' 'bout lawyers for

Why you wanna change locks and doors

Well, maybe it was, sure

But you know tomorrow you'll love me some more

Another Visa another set of keys

We did this last week, Ma don't get amnesia

All this back and forth gotta quit

And by the way this is the remix

Sweatin' me but

I'm not your type

You think you hurt me and you're so right

I'd rather keep the trash and throw you out

Stupid bitch in my beach house

No, I ain't gonna go and act a fool

And be the lead story on the nigga news

Never me, sucker

I'd never be your lover

I'd rather make you suffer you stupid motherfucker

You musta thought you had game like nigga what

Walk around like you down you don't give a fuck

'Cos you don't really want a beef until you hit the streets

See, I'm a lover, not a fighter but I'll crack your teeth

Boy, plea plea, nah don't bother me 'cos when you had me you ain't know how to chill with me

You wannabes in the street with the freakneeks but now you all up on them knees still jocking me

But I'ma say it real real keep it real

What the deal, how you feel is you ill, is you sick

'Cos I'm the deal, still here whip appeal and it's real

Don't front 'cos boy I'm the shit

I'm doing better without you and I'm happy without you

And this song is about you son of a gun

Got a chip upon your shoulder

I just knocked it off

Show me what you're gonna do

I ain't 'bout to run

You have just run out of ammunition

Shootin' blanks now

Oh, who you gonna give it to

Who you gonna steal it from

Who's your next victim

Oh, who you gonna lie to

Who you gonna cheat on

Who you gonna leave alone

Oh, what you gonna tell her after she discovers you don't really love her

Oh, it's gonna be a showdown knock down, drag out gun-slingin' shoot 'em up

I betcha think this song is about you

I betcha think this song is about you

I betcha think this song is about you

I betcha think this song is about you

Don't you, don't you, don't you

Ah ah ooh ooh

Thought you'd get the money too

Greedy

Try to have their cake and eat it too

Ah ah ooh ooh

Thought you'd get the money too

Greedy

Try to have their cake and eat it too