I don't know how they made it,
Their music makes me rot.
A little of it's okay;
But it's bad to have a lot.
On the TV,
Here in my car,
They're all stars.

They're played every hour,
It really ticks me off.
They don't know what they're singin',
I think I'll turn it off.
Gives me headaches,
On the countdowns,
They're all stars.

I just wanna cry
When I hear "...One More Time."
Britney, Nelly,
Christi, Kelly.

A genie in a bottle,
Now what the heck is that.
Next time I hear "Dilemma,"
My Walkman's getting bashed.
They're annoying,
I get sick of those pop...
Stars.

I just wanna cry
When I hear "...One More Time."
Britney, Nelly,
Christi, Kelly.

Their music's getting boring,
I'm sick of "Ride Wit' Me."
They make so much darn money,
And they're under age of 33.
All their little tricks
Make you buy their songs
They're all stars.

Oh, man.

I just wanna cry
When I hear "...One More Time."
Britney, Nelly,
Christi, Kelly.