| It feels alright
|
| So just lay back into the night
|
| But don’t lose sight
|
| Make sure you watch those Yellow Lines
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| I’m DUI in her eyes, but fuck tapping the brakes
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| Let’s shorten up the time fantasy take
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| Stroke her ego slow til' her vanity quake
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| Satin hair, silk skin, wet panties and lace, the
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| Fabric of love, the thrill of the chase
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| Blunted, lovin the highway, spinnin in place
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| My hands are Sex Pistols, strapped to her waist
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| Strange fruitin lip gloss, try and savor the taste
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| We can both play games, exchange fake names
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| Paint pictures of lust using both our frames
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| Remain unaware of the spell you under
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| Prisoner of love when given my cell number
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| High off love, lust in your joints
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| Kiss and tellin the tale of our sex exploits
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| Yo relationship sank out to sea
|
| Now you floating on driftwood behind fucking with me
|
| It feels alright
|
| So just lay back into the night
|
| But don’t lose sight
|
| Make sure you watch those Yellow Lines
|
| I put a spell on them hoes
|
| I have 'em in the corner on Patron at the shows
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| I can tell when they ain’t from around here
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| The spell start working when my finger say 'come here'
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| I’m not a pimp, I’m not a trick
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| But please believe me I can have any bitch
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| They call me short, dark and handsome
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| Kidnap your girl, send your man a little ransom
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| (Hey) Hey! |
| I’m making major moves, won’t you holla back
|
| Hoes twisting my hair with some o' that beeswax
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| At the club she say she don’t dance
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| But she bouncing on that hot thang in my pants
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| Ya got money, take her out tonight to eat
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| She coming over after you finish with the Applebee’s
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| Bobby said slow down, I say go slow
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| I’m the reason she don’t fuck witchu no more
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| I’m the reason for her being on the pill
|
| I’m the reason Sir Charles had to chill
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| To get her freaky don’t need a bottle of gin
|
| And we be fucking like the world 'bout to end
|
| Ey, I put a spell on them hoes
|
| Forgive me Lord, but I’m hell on them hoes
|
| Yeah, I put a spell on them hoes
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| Forgive me Lord, but I’m hell on them hoes
|
| Hey, I put a spell on them hoes
|
| Forgive me Lord, but I’m hell on them hoes
|
| I just, I put a spell on them hoes
|
| Forgive me Lord, but I’m hell on them hoes, hell on them hoes
|
| She used to call me late at night
|
| Didn’t take long to see that we were a-alikes
|
| On the same page, just couldn’t get it right
|
| Macintosh of my eye, let me take a mega bite
|
| I cordially invite you to come take a ride in my thoughts
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| Switch memory lanes while we dreamin, wanderin
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| And in return I’ll strip my inhibitions
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| And go skinny dipping in your stream of consciousness
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| She said it sounds tempting
|
| And I don’t want to catch feelings
|
| But this urge is calling me bad
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| I said well sugar, if you’re worried 'bout catching feelings
|
| Chances are you already have
|
| And there’s no need to deny ourselves
|
| I mean, lie to each other and deprive ourselves
|
| Denial’s not a game I’m prepared to play
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| So I express things most niggas scared to say
|
| Put a spell on 'em, Forgive me Lord but I’m hell on 'em
|
| Baby we grown folk, So let me longstroke
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| And send em back to they man with my smell on 'em
|
| Let me be quiet before I tell on 'em
|
| It feels alright
|
| So just lay back into the night
|
| But don’t lose sight
|
| Make sure you watch those Yellow Lines |