| Haha, haha
|
| It’s on your brain again, huh
|
| It’s like a double sin
|
| The way you think about gettin' it in
|
| And I’ma say it again, say it like-like
|
| Haha, haha
|
| Yeah, it’s on your brain again, huh
|
| It’s like a double sin
|
| The way you think about gettin' it in
|
| I’m gettin' in
|
| Ever lay cold in bed at night? |
| (Yeah)
|
| Missin' me 'cause your heart wasn’t right (Uh huh)
|
| Then you close your eyes and you think of me (Yeah)
|
| Since you can’t sleep, since you’ve been daydreamin'
|
| Wishin' we could get away, get away
|
| You roll up, you po' up liquor
|
| Thoughts won’t get away, get away
|
| My number done changed, so we can’t talk, so
|
| Now you see me on the television (Television)
|
| Then you hear me on the radio (Radio)
|
| Then you hit my best friend and ask him if he have my number
|
| Then he hit you with the «hell no»
|
| This bitch better get away, get away
|
| I’m so sorry, it’s so disrespectful
|
| You really need to get away, get away
|
| The crazy part is you don’t know I be thinkin' of you
|
| The same time you be thinkin' of me
|
| From stage to studio, to pickin' out new wardrobes
|
| In these showrooms, the top floors, wish I could five time her
|
| Get away, get away
|
| Shit, I should fly you out, so you can get away, get away
|
| You’ve got me flyin' home to smoke with you, yeah
|
| (I'll go to Houston then Atlanta, baby)
|
| When we fuck it feel like Vegas (Feel like Vegas)
|
| When I’m freakin' you
|
| Mm-mm-mm-mm
|
| (Let's go smokin' in Amsterdam, let’s go shoppin' in Paris
|
| Fuckin' in Tokyo, what you want?)
|
| You’ve got me flyin' home to smoke with you, ooh, yeah
|
| When we fuck it feel like Vegas (Vegas)
|
| When I’m freakin' you (Freakin' you)
|
| All up in your V, your V (Freakin' you)
|
| There’s gotta be something better to talk about
|
| Ask a stupid question, I’m walking out
|
| I highly doubted I would make it out of my mama house
|
| So finally got up off the couch, a nigga had to
|
| Get away, get away
|
| Find a little space, catch a vibe by myself, really
|
| Get away, get away
|
| This the first time that I felt good in a long time
|
| There’s gotta be better ways we can get along
|
| I say my opinion, you take it wrong
|
| You always bringin' up you heard about another bitch I was fuckin' on
|
| Sometimes I just need me a second girl, you make me wanna
|
| Get away, get away
|
| Smoke something, drink something, ride around the city
|
| Just get away, get away
|
| Chillin' with the homies, gettin' high 'til I forgot about it
|
| Callin' my other bitch on the telephone
|
| Gotta be somewhere better I belong
|
| I’m tired of everybody out here that be tryna get me to string along
|
| They don’t even know who they frontin' on
|
| It’s best that you get away, get away
|
| You want fly on a plane with a nigga like me, baby?
|
| Get away, get away
|
| Yeah, well I’m tryna do the same thing, let’s go
|
| You’ve got me flyin' home to smoke with you, yeah
|
| (I'll go to Houston then Atlanta, baby)
|
| When we fuck it feel like Vegas (Feel like Vegas)
|
| When I’m freakin' you
|
| Mm-mm-mm-mm
|
| (Let's go smokin' in Amsterdam, let’s go shoppin' in Paris
|
| Fuckin' in Tokyo, what you want?)
|
| You’ve got me flyin' home to smoke with you, ooh, yeah
|
| When we fuck it feel like Vegas (Vegas)
|
| When I’m freakin' you (Freakin' you)
|
| All up in your V, your V (Freakin' you)
|
| Fucking with a nigga like me, she gotta be sick in the head too
|
| Three o' clock, watch the moon, that’s the goal
|
| Adios, my heart broken, it hurt, I know that it ain’t personal
|
| I gotta get away, tryna be calm, cool, collected, smooth
|
| But I look at your beautiful gluteus maximus
|
| Toot it and boot it, something wrong, who would’ve knew it
|
| Studying like I’ma student, but I’m still stupid
|
| Tryna get you Gucci with the real Louis
|
| And I gotta thank the Lord 'cause he will do it
|
| For a real nigga who been really on the road movin'
|
| Wanna be alone, tell the whole world get away
|
| I be in my own world, I’m my own man with my old man mind
|
| Inside a young man body, third eye, third leg
|
| Bitch don’t stand by me, these are not Versace
|
| They still pulled up with the drac' and mink coat, Versace
|
| Your favorite rapper mad, so he copy me
|
| I fucked his bitch up in his bed
|
| He pulled up and I still ain’t wanna get away, get away
|
| I been drinkin' 'cause we know you spend a long time, let’s get away, get away
|
| You’ve got me flyin' home to smoke with you, yeah
|
| (I'll go to Houston then Atlanta, baby)
|
| When we fuck it feel like Vegas (Feel like Vegas)
|
| When I’m freakin' you
|
| Mm-mm-mm-mm
|
| (Let's go smokin' in Amsterdam, let’s go shoppin' in Paris
|
| Fuckin' in Tokyo, what you want?)
|
| You’ve got me flyin' home to smoke with you, ooh, yeah
|
| When we fuck it feel like Vegas (Vegas)
|
| When I’m freakin' you (Freakin' you)
|
| All up in your V, your V (Freakin' you)
|
| Haha, haha
|
| It’s on your brain again, huh
|
| It’s like a double sin
|
| The way you think about gettin' it in
|
| And I’ma say it again, say it like-like
|
| Haha, haha |