| Yeah, she was a little red Corvette
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| Fast as hell, turned heads on the set
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| Pretty skin, soft voice, asking for rough sex
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| Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets
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| This particular evening she wanted to ride Jets
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| Even though I know shorty was bad news, I played it cool
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| Vowing to never turn sucka like them other dudes
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| Misreading signals, attachment issues
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| Getting way too into the grip of the vagina lips
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| Got homies searching for relationships
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| She not tryna hear my type of bitch
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| She ran a story to me over grape juice and Ciroc sips
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| Married to a doctor, cuddle master
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| Don’t fuck her, just buy her anything, tryna satisfy her
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| On the low, she fucking his partners
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| Fill the void inside her cause she weren’t fucking with a rider
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| She don’t want a man, she just wanna fuck
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| She don’t want a man, she just wanna fuck
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| She don’t want a man, she just wanna fuck
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| He tell balance the check book, I tell her roll the weed up
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| She don’t want a man, she just wanna fuck
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| He tell her to drop his kids over, I tell her pick my homies up
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| She don’t want a man, she just wanna fuck
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| From talking it out to the parking lot
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| From the parking lot to my safe house
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| Tommy Vercetti, Spitta Andretti
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| This is New Jet City, most bitches ain’t ready
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| But shorty ain’t tripping, she was living already
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| My fuck game impressive, so she come back steady
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| The shit, while heavy I can carry it
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| Can’t get too far, I mean this is a married bitch
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| She roll doobies as I paddle shift
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| We fuck, watch movies, end up getting too groovy
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| And then we smash again, she talking about him
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| How she feel bad by feeling so good, by giving me the ass
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| 'bout how if she could, she a tell a nigga everything
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| To get it off her chest but she don’t want see him mad
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| Collecting her underwear from the rooms of my pad
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| She got dressed and left in a flash, but she saying she be back
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| Couple days roll by
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| Shorty calling asking if I have time
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| To put a couple in the air, I was like yeah
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| We could fly more then a pair, there’s plenty over here
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| She fell through like always
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| We broke it down in the hallway, she bossed her way back
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| She don’t crawl her way, her body designer, frame Cartier
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| Say something talking heavy on her heart today
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| Telling her the situation is wrong and she should walk away
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| Cause her feelings was coming into play
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| Affecting her home life in all kinda ways
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| Her man asking her what’s wrong
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| She don’t know what to say but she do got a union to save
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| But she in love with the lust that we’ve made
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| She had far too much she could say
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| That fucking me was a perfect mistake |