I want to be a popstar

I'm through with living in trailers with my pushy mom
I'm only nine and she makes me put make up on
So I'll grant her wish and I wont stop 'till I'm on TV.
I want a brand new nose and a cleft in my chin
And some breast implants I'll deny I put in
And a teacup poodle that I'm always carrying with me.
I need a good producer cause you know I can't sing and a lawyer who can get me out of anything.
Gonna date Justin Timberlake to gain some credibility.
I want my own perfume and a clothing line, its all made in sweatshops but that's just fine
I'll give the child labourers a signed copy of my CD.
I'm gonna re-establish the mouseketeers starting my new life wearing those Mickey ears.
Because we all just wanna be big pop stars, start out innocent to get my fan base large.
My listeners will be people in their tweens and old perverts who can't wait 'til I turn 18.
And my first hit will be a Disney song but my good girl image won't last too long.
My first album just had some innuendo but my third album I'll act like a full blown ho.
I wanna be generic let the media lead me, gonna sing canned music that my label feeds me. Oversaturate the market till everyone is sick of me.
I'm gonna dress myself without an ounce of class, gonna make the boys drool and stare at my ass, gonna hang out with the laughing stock of society.
I'm gonna lose all sense of decency and sell out all of my integrity.
Cause we all just wanna be big pop stars, paparazzi getting pictures of my implant scars. I'll sleep through the days and party all night long, it's so hard to remember to put panties on. And my male fans will all be crushed when those photos leak that haven't been airbrushed. I'll marry a loser who just wants my fame and I'll divorce his sorry butt the very next day, then I'll drop a hint that I'm a lesbian hoping that will jumpstart my lame career again.
I'll pose for magazines like FHM and Marie Claire tell 'em bout how I'm a Christian in my underwear.
I'm gonna have some babies and then I'll neglect them, hit my mid-life crisis when I'm 27. Make sure I'm drunk before I start to drive, be caught lip synching on Saturday night live.
We all just want to be big pop stars, make abysmal movies and wreck fifteen cars.
I'll check into rehab after hitting that tree then I'll check out early but be back next week, and they'll finally put me behind bars with a real short sentence since I am a star, the tabloids will tell them that I've lost my flair when the pressure gets too much well I'll just shave my hair. But I'll work hard to get my life on track and my fans will all start to accept me back.
I'm back on top and selling out my shows until my ex releases our sex videos.
I wanna be a pop star.