She's the kind that has make-up
That's like a disguise
With a half-inch of eye-liner round both her eyes
And her clothing reveals what you *don't* want to see
It's yeuch, and it's gross
'Cause she's *that* kind of woman, you see

Has a stud through her lip
And a ring through her nose
Yet she still can suck tennis balls
Right through a hose
And she's not got a boyfriend, she has two or three
Or four, five or six
'Cause she's *that* kind of woman, you see


Oh--she's got hair on her chest
Like a welcome mat rug
That is coated in slime
Oh--if she got her tits out
You'd scream "Put 'em back in"
Yes, she's really that kind

She's got lists of old boyfriends
In tons of tattoos
Some of which have gone septic
And you can see them ooze
And she has been infected
With ten STDs
She'll never use condoms -
She's *that* kind of woman, you see


Oh - she has silicone breasts
You can feel if you want
As she don't seem to mind
Oh - you can do what you like
If you buy her a drink
She's pissed out of her mind

At the lowest of dives
And the seediest bars
She'll pretend to give blow-jobs
To Cuban cigars
Or fellating her bottle
Of WKD
And I know all this, son
'Cause your mother was one
Yes, she's *that* kind of woman, you see