Everybody knows you go to Melrose for those clothes
And everybody sees that you prefer to drive my black Mercedes Benz
And I won't meet you at the Starbucks down the street
And everybody knows he's just a secret trust fund, baby

Fuck, fake hippies
Fuck, fake hippies
Fuck, fake hippies
You kinda smell like shit
Because real hippies
They don't wear Zubie
They don't have blackberries
So fuck, fake hippies

You don't eat meat, so you can't fit into chick jeans
And I don't understand you wipe you're shitty ass off with your hands
'Cos you don't believe in toilet paper, just chick jeans.
And I'm fucking sick of these musician artist mood swings

Fuck, fake hippies
Fuck, fake hippies
You shitty ass hippie
You kinda smell like shit
Because real hippies
They don't wear Zubie
They don't have blackberries

So fuck, fake hippies
Fuck you, fake hippie
You stupid hippie
You shitty ass hippie
You kinda smell like shit

And I guess I mean that literally
Shit stains in your Zubie jeans
Text message on that blackberry
You stupid fucking fake hippie.

Fuck you, ew ew ew ew ew ew ew
Oh, fuck you, ew ew ew ew ew ew
Fuck you
Suck my dick too, ew ew ew ew
Suck my dick, ew ew ew ew

We see the shit stains in your Zubie jeans
We see the shit stains in your Zubie jeans
We see the shit stains in your Zubie jeans
We see the shit stains in your Zubie jeans
We see the shit stains in your Zubie jeans
Ew ew ew ew