You'Re So Bourgeois
You’re so bourgeois,
it ain’t materialistically funny
You’re so smug, lady LaDeda —
you’re a maven for making money
Always turning your nose up,
and looking down
at poor, working class people
Thinking you’re better than most everyone else
because of what you got
You’re so bourgeois,
I hope that Dom Perigon don’t give you gut rot
You’re so smarmy, lady cougar —
you believe your own press, that you’re some big shot
But you’re not
You’re just that same bratty little kid,
whose nose was always dripping with snot
Somewhere along the way in life,
you came across a piece of money ...
now you think you’re so bourgeois
Class is more than a custom car,
honor is more than a huge house
True success is not measured
by how much is in a bank account
But you still don’t understand,
do you, lady Bourgeois —
money can only take you so far,
before it drops you
into a river of cash flow funk
Riches got wings
that can fly away,
sending you back into poverty
Such an empty feeling,
ain’t it Bourgie lady ...
No green got you turning so gray
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