(piano intro)

She can kill with a song, she can whine with her eyes.
Anyone who says she can sing, that's full of lies.
She only reveals things with dissonant bleat.
Took the stage, VMAs, and she's always a woman to meat.

She can lead you to love, but I wouldn't advise it.
She can give you crap songs, and she still multiplies it.
And she'll take what you give her, your money complete.
Yeah, she'll dress like a whore, and she's always a woman to meat.

Oh, she should not dress herself.
I don't know what she wants.
She's just wasting our time.

Oh, I wish she would get out.
That meat dress she was in
proves she's sick in the mind.

And she'll promise you more than the Garden of Eden
but the dress would make John Wayne turn into a vegan.
And she'll bring out the best in the worst tune and beat.
Blame it all on her style, 'cause she's always a woman to meat.

(humming break)

Oh, she should not dress herself.
I don't know what she wants.
She's just wasting our time.

Oh, I wish she would get out.
That meat dress she was in
proves she's sick in the mind.

She's frequently nuts and occasionally cruel.
If you download her songs you're a big honking fool.
And she should be convicted, at least kicked in her seat.
And that most she will do is throw garbage at you
'cause she's always a woman to meat.

(humming close)