Son Of A Gun (I Betcha Think This Song Is About You)

Album: All For You (2001)
Charted: 13 28
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  • Ha, ha, hoo, hoo
    Thought you'd get the money too
    Greedy motherfuckers (you want some earnings and stuff?)
    Try to have their cake and eat it too (yes, ma'am)
    (Son of a gun)
    (Son of a gun)
    You are such a romantic hero
    The way you dress and look yourself over
    (It's no wonder you would ponder that image
    Of your preening self in the mirror (go on)

    Sharp-shooter into breakin' hearts
    Baby gigolo, a sex pistol
    Hollerin' at everything that walks (uh)
    No substance, just small talk
    Now why you're feelin' on that girl's behind
    You got a sleazy, one track mind
    And workin' your back until you think you'll find
    Who's goin' home with you tonight?

    Oh, who you gonna give it to?
    Who you gonna steal 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 bet you think this song is about you
    I bet you think this song is about you (I bet you)
    I bet you think this song is about you (yeah, yeah)
    I bet you think this song is about you
    Don't you, don't you, don't you?

    Ha, ha, hoo, hoo
    Thought you'd get the money too
    Greedy motherfuckers
    Try to have their cake and eat it too
    (Son of a gun)
    You tell 'em, Carly
    Clouds in my coffee (go on)
    Clouds in my coffee
    Ha, ha, hoo, hoo
    Thought you'd get the money too
    Greedy motherfuckers
    Try to have their cake and eat it too

    Sweatin' me but I'm not your type (no)
    You think you irkin' 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 gon' go and act a fool
    And be the lead story on nigga news
    Never me, sucker, I'd never be your lover
    I'd rather make you suffer, you stupid motherfucker

    Oh, who you gonna give it to?
    Who you gonna steal 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 (uh)
    You don't really love her?
    Oh, it's gonna be a showdown, knockdown, drag out
    Gun slingin', shoot 'em up

    I bet you think this song is about you
    I bet you think this song is about you
    I bet you think this song is about you (yeah, yeah)
    I bet you think this song is about you
    Don't you, don't you, don't you?

    Ha, ha, hoo, hoo
    Thought you'd get the money too
    Greedy motherfuckers
    Try to have their cake and eat it too (let's dance)

    You tell 'em, Carly (uh)
    (Clouds of various shapes and sizes)
    (Most guys like to evaluate their prizes) alright now
    (We come with so many different tricks)
    (The apricot scarf was worn by Nick)
    (Nothing in the words refer to Mick)

    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 (I'm storm cloud, baby)
    Shootin' blanks now, you son of a gun (you can roll like thunder all over me)

    Oh, who you gonna give it to?
    Who you gonna steal it from?
    Who's your next victim?
    Oh, who you gonna lie to? (No, no, no, no, no)
    Who you gonna cheat on? (It's not what you say)
    Who you gonna leave alone? (It's what you do)
    Oh (you're so vain, go on)
    What you gonna tell her after she discovers (you probably think this song is about you)
    You don't really love her?
    Oh, it's gonna be a showdown (don't you, don't you, don't you)
    Knockdown, drag down (don't you)
    Gun slingin', shoot 'em up (don't you?)

    I bet you think this song is about you
    I bet you think this song is about you (yeah, yeah, yeah)
    I bet you think this song is about you (I bet you)
    I bet you think this song is about you
    I bet you think this song is about you (don't you?)
    I bet you think this song is about you (I bet you)
    I bet you think this song is about you
    I bet you think this song is about you
    Don't you, don't you, don't you?

    I bet you think this song is about you
    I bet you think this song is about you (yeah, yeah, yeah)
    I bet you think this song is about you (I bet you)
    I bet you think this song is about you
    Don't you, don't you, don't you?

    I'm gone
    (Son of a gun)
    Go on
    Janet and me, thick as thieves
    Never met yet but I'll venture a bet
    There's a common threat to our common dream (tell 'em, Carly)
    And if it wasn't for that damned cream
    There'd be no clouds in my coffee (talk to 'em, come on)
    clouds in my coffee
    Who do you think you are, Rambo?
    Or a cumulonimbus capillatus or a cirrus or an altostratus?
    Somebody to make somebody like me proud (you tell 'em, Carly)
    In the encyclopedia of clouds? (Alright now)
    No, no, no, no
    It's not what you say, it's what you do
    You're so vain (go on)
    You probably think this song is about you
    You tell 'em, Carly
    probably think this song is about you
    Don't hurt 'em now
    Yeah, you probably think this song is about you
    That's my girl
    Is about you (go on)
    Is about you (go on)
    You probably think this song is about you
    (You son of a gun)

    (Son of a gun)
    (Son of a gun)
    (Son of a gun) Writer/s: Carly E Simon, James Samuel Iii Harris, Janet Jackson, Terry Lewis
    Publisher: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Sentric Music, Universal Music Publishing Group
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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