Girl I know you got a man, and you so in love with himBut can I get a dance? Maybe a little lovingSlim girl if I took you home, I wonder, I wonderMaybe I was wonderingI wonder if I took you homeWould you still be in love baby?Cause I need you tonightI wonder if I took you homeWould you still be in love baby?Cause I need you tonight(Tell your man you'll see him next week, cause we gone)I say Maserati stance, get it we disappearingI tell her cut off the phones, there's nothing to interfereShe follow my every order do anything that I dareI'm giving her everything so all my neighbors can hear itScream to her making her fiend moreWe be making a movie they thinking it's Scream 4Got that from Jeezy and then I put Dean onI'm 7 looking like Heaven, I love when them jeans onWe rolling get your chick stolenStand up paper I can't even fold itOld bread baby, my money be moldyEvery time I'm going down it's nothing but roses, yeahI was just on the money, never was on hoesI told shorty play her part like some corn rowsAnd maybe you could get a Neiman Marcus wardrobeI'm talking tearing down the mall when the stores closeDub A.L.E. you know I'm in the houseI'm going on whatever shorty point them bitches outThey love me up top, I'm important in the SouthI could talk them into drinking and then talk them out of a blouseLook, wild youngin, brown drinking and loud lovingLiving in a moment shawty it's now or neverI'm in a 911, this shit is rented thoughBut how I'm whippin' this muthafucka you never knowShout out my brother Meek, O Melly what it do?We trying to find how many bitches could fit in the coupeShe addicted to bags, I'm addicted to shoesYou could buy em for me, he can buy em for youWord. Wale FolarinYoung'un Supreme SB's, I'm a star in this muthafuckaRaw in this muthafucka, Vuitton a nigga's duffleJohn Doe flow: got a car in this muthafuckaWoop! Park the Caddy in the living roomHe ain't talking about no paper we don't listen to himI try to love 'em in the physical not literalAfter I'm a hit it gotta give a little nigga room!A little space! I gotta breatheWe blew enough trees, you gotta leaf!No Days Off, me and MeekYoung gunner, Rock Boys, double MG!Man I like my drinks high, my lights lowAnd I'm stacking paper like trifolds'Til my momma neighbors them white folks'Til my account triple O, oh, triple o, ohMan the bank teller thought it was a typoI've got loose girls in tight clothesMan, that dance floor look perfectOnly thing it's missing is MichaelTwerk that shit, berserk that shitFinally Famous ho, I deserve that shitPut syrup on top, I dessert that shitThen afterwards I'm gone, I desert that shitB.I.G. lil bitch!
Please consider supporting this site by
Clicking Here and Bookmarking whenever you search and shop Amazon.
It costs you nothing but it supports us and gives us credit and we appreciate it greatly.