Son of a Gun (I Betcha Think This Song Is About You) - Janet Jackson ft. Carly Simon

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
Son of a gun
You're 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
A baby gigolo, a sex pistol
Hollerin' at everything that walks (Uh)
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?

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 slingers, shoot 'em up

I betcha think this song is about you
I betcha think this song is about you (I bet you)
I betcha think this song is about you (Yeah, yeah)
I betcha 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
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
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
Naw, I ain't gonna go and act a fool
And be the lead story on the nigga news
Never me, sucker, I'll never be your lover
I'd rather make you suffer, you stupid motherfucker

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 (Uh)
After she discovers you don't really love her?
Oh, it's gonna be a showdown, knockdown, drag out
Gun slingers, 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 (Yeah, yeah)
I betcha 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
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

Gotta 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?
(No, no, no, no, no) Oh, who you gonna lie to?
(It's not what you say, its what you do) Who you gonna cheat on? Who you gonna leave alone?
(You're so vain, (Go on) you probably think this song is about you) Oh, what you gonna tell her
After she discovers you don't really love her?
(Don't you, don't you, don't you, don't you?) Oh, it's gonna be a showdown, knockdown, drag down
Gun slingers, shoot 'em up

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

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