| Turnt than a motherfucker
|
| Bought that ho a shot cause you wanna cuff her
|
| All these other motherfuckers think they stuntin'
|
| But they spot is 'bout to close and they ain’t pullin' nothin'
|
| Walls smell like pussy when it sweat
|
| Snort it to the face, but the club wet
|
| Trying to get a taste, baby wanna flex
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| Sick of pushin' weight in an alley with a mind full of sex
|
| She walk to the floor, leave the bar stool soakin'
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| Drop it down low, make it wade like the ocean
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| And every man up in here wanna see her bust it open
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| But you ain’t gonna get it if you so soft-spoken
|
| Flashing lights, molly dreams, face down low
|
| DJ screaming «last call», that liquor dark, that dick gone hard
|
| With visions of her legs up in the air over your face under her ass
|
| And breaking lamps from beatin pussy purple cause she like it fast
|
| Wha-wha-wha-what's your fantasy? |
| Ass like Trina, face like Bey-
|
| Oncé, and tell your story, try to whip her fine ass free
|
| Cause she’s probably used to ballers and ballin' you may not be
|
| But shit, the spot about to close and you still ain’t pulled you a freak?
|
| It’s the last song of the night
|
| Don’t forget to tip the bartender
|
| You got fucked up, that’s alright
|
| That’s not the only thing you came to do
|
| Cause there’s bad ones all around
|
| And you ain’t pulled your one yet
|
| If you ain’t locked it down by now
|
| Then it’s time to figure out who fuckin' tonight (Yeah ho!)
|
| Who fucking tonight, who fuckin' tonight, who fuckin' tonight
|
| I’m drunker than I ever been (Drunk)
|
| Higher than I ever been (I'm high)
|
| Don’t you want to take me to the bar
|
| To get a shot again? |
| (Boom)
|
| Don’t you want to take me home?
|
| Don’t you want to see me roam? |
| (Yeah, ho!)
|
| Music beatin', twerkin' to the sound
|
| I’m all up in my zone
|
| Lookin' for a victim, caught him slippin'
|
| I just want some sex
|
| Nothing else to do when I leave the club
|
| So that’s the best thing next
|
| Here, just take my number
|
| When you leave, make sure you send a text
|
| I’ll be at the Waffle House waiting
|
| Baby, fuck the rest (Yeah, ho!)
|
| If you at the club and you feel trashed
|
| And it’s about to close (Yeah, ho!)
|
| Make sure you have a freak that knows
|
| How to bend and touch her toes
|
| Make sure that that boy know
|
| He got a play, what he waiting, I’m sold
|
| He get to see me do dances and shit
|
| Doin' a split and I’m killin' this shit
|
| It’s the last song of the night
|
| Don’t forget to tip the bartender
|
| You got fucked up, that’s alright
|
| That’s not the only thing you came to do
|
| Cause there’s bad ones all around
|
| And you ain’t pulled your one yet
|
| If you ain’t locked it down by now
|
| Then it’s time to figure out who fuckin' tonight
|
| Who fucking tonight, who fuckin' tonight, who fuckin' tonight
|
| Yup
|
| It’s clipping.
|
| Bitch
|
| Tab on the bank card, molly on the gums
|
| Last shot dark, brain, 808 bass drums
|
| Laser in the eyeball, callous on the feet
|
| Cab to the someplace, head in the backseat
|
| Stumble up a staircase, floor missing boards
|
| Hands fumbling through denim, keys—keys open doors
|
| Tumble to the futon, teeth into soft skin
|
| Fists full of weave, rip, lick, suck, coughin'
|
| Acrylic on the spine, hand prints on the hips
|
| Rug burn on the knees, salt on the lips
|
| Beat it up, spread it out, bust it open, take it down
|
| Lungs weak, breathing in somebody else’s breath
|
| Shit, hold up, what’s your name, what’s up with that breakfast?
|
| It’s the last song of the night
|
| Don’t forget to tip the bartender
|
| You got fucked up, that’s alright
|
| That’s not the only thing you came to do
|
| Cause there’s bad ones all around
|
| And you ain’t pulled your one yet
|
| If you ain’t locked it down by now
|
| Then it’s time to figure out who fuckin' tonight
|
| Who fucking tonight, who fuckin' tonight, who fuckin' tonight |