Some people think that she's one of those mink-coated ladies They say she wakes up at one And makes the paparazzi run till dawn She wines and dines with argentines and kuwaitis After she sips margaritas on the white house lawn
Chorus That's not her style I can tell you That ain't my woman It's just not her style I can tell you Because I'm her man
The papers say she was seen in l.a. with a stranger She found a perfect body with a maserati right outside And then she chartered a lear When she heard her career was in danger And gave the pilot somethin' extra for a perfect ride
Chorus
Not that she's never done something crazy or done something wild It's just that she's better at doing whatever suits her style And that's not her style
I've read where it's said that she sleeps in a bed made of satin She's had her face done in every place you can try They say she gets a piece of every lease in manhattan And says she's thirty when she's really pushing forty-five
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