| I’m gettin' tired of your shit
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| You don’t never buy me nothin'
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| See everytime you come around
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| You got to bring Jim, James, Paul, and Tyrone
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| See why can’t we be by ourselves sometimes
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| See I’ve been havin' this on my mind for a long time
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| I just want it to be, you and me
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| Like it used to be, baby
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| But 'cha don’t know how to act
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| So matter fact
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| I think you’d better call Tyrone
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| (Call him)
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| And tell him come on help you get your shit
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| (Come on, Come on, Come on)
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| You need to call Tyrone
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| (Call him)
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| And tell him, I said come on
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| Now every time I ask you for a little cash
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| You say no but turn right around and ask me for some ass
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| Oh! |
| Whoa!
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| Now hold up, listen partner I ain’t no cheap thrill
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| Cause Miss Badu’s always comin' for real
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| You now the deal, nigga
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| Everytime we go somewhere, I gotta reach down in my purse
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| To pay your way and your homeboy’s way
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| And sometimes your cousin’s way
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| They don’t never have to pay
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| Don’t have no cars
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| Hang around in bars
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| Tryna hang around with stars
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| Like Badu Ima tell you the truth
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| Show improve
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| Or get the boot
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| I think you’d better call Tyrone
|
| (Call him)
|
| And tell him come on help you get your shit
|
| (Come on, Come on, Come on)
|
| You need to call Tyrone
|
| (Call him)
|
| Hold on…
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| But you can’t use my phone |