"Dear Hollywood" lyrics

Hey, don't you hate those types of people
That believe they're in a movie? And their movie needs a sequel?
That the world revolves around the sound of their voice
(Voice of the seagulls)
Makes my psyche feel so tiny and my sanity go feeble
But that's not me though, I know I have an ego
I know that I'm a jerk at times and hypocritical (Huh)
Don't mean to get political, but I know some ellipticals
That have more functionality, a part of me just wants the gag, you see

I don't care who your husband is
Don't care how many girls you've kissed
How many lives you've influenced
You're just like everybody else
I'm only ever in the Hills
Because the label pays my bills
I'd rather be at home with monsters
Than the city of angels

I don't get bitches, I get money
Got real friends who think I'm funny
I don't smoke and I don't party at all
I got coupons in my pocket and I rarely shop at Target
I don't flex my seven figures at all
I don't get— (Mm)

I've been sad for a day, so I guess that means I'm lame
That's okay, you can talk about how I should be ashamed
No, it doesn't bother me, 'cause I'm a fucking prodigy
And being cool means to be a fucking dumbass, logically
Then sure, I guess you're cool, congrats, one of a kind
I took one look at your face and, no, I can't say I'm surprised
Your design and how you are left me speechless, it's bizarre
How you can be this fucking stupid, yet, deserve to be a tzar (Woo!)

I simply do not give a fuck
You say I'm trash, bitch, I'm the truck
You'd kiss my ass and hold my cup
If you had found out who I was
It's funny how some people change
Soon as they recognize my face
Their fits are fly, but heads are dense
You're not that guy, bro, no offense

(I-I-I—) I don't get bitches, I get money
Got real friends who think I'm funny
I don't smoke and I don't party at all
I got coupons in my pocket and I rarely shop at Target
I don't flex my seven figures at all
I don't get— (Mm)

(Woo, woo!)
I don't get— (Mm)
(Woo, woo!)
I don't get—