| Where’s all of my real women?
|
| Tune’s nearly a year old but I’m still singing
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| Me, fresh prince, I’ll Will Smith 'em
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| Deal or no deal, I can deal with them
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| Ever since sing for me
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| The wifey’s been to into me
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| She thinks I’ve fucked half of the industry
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| Now I know how difficult things can be
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| Because if I be in a stu’s, with a singer in a booth
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| And that’s my misses in a mood
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| Pissed off, sitting in a room
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| And she ain’t never gonna listen to the tune
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| But it’s my fault
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| I should’ve thought first
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| But I never thought words can leave a girl’s mine warped
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| Now I’m trying to get her back with the right talk
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| Or the right song
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| But the feeling ain’t mutual
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| So, it’s like, force
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| I’ve been kicked to the curb
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| Now I feel like I’m part of the sidewalk
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| I’m that, we could have a party
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| One smile and I got 'em like
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| Flyboy, so, I tip past the roof
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| I’ve been working hard, so, I look kinda
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| I got a wife that’s worth more than money
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| She ain’t for sale, and I ain’t for real
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| I suppose she glows even when it ain’t sunny
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| I love her, she loves me
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| But that don’t stop me getting down in the buggy
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| Twenty percent tints, ten out of ten tits
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| Bottle shaped pips, Angelina lips
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| Nails and every ting crisp
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| But that don’t mean I should
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| But that noise that you make sounds good
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| This might be the last time, get a good look
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| Just for old times sake, I make you scream
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| I’m that, we could have a party
|
| One smile and I got 'em like
|
| Flyboy, so, I tip past the roof
|
| I’ve been working hard, so, I look kinda
|
| Where’s all of my real women?
|
| Tune’s nearly a year old but I’m still singing
|
| Me, fresh prince, I’ll Will Smith 'em
|
| Deal or no deal, I can deal with them
|
| If she’s got a voice then
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| I might be the reason she leaves her boyfriend
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| I wanna see her and I don’t need an appointment
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| Like me, mum say to avoid them
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| I know it’s old news but in the
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| You was talking about a nigga like me
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| Yeah, it’s so true
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| A nigga might bang and a nigga might leave
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| I call it so soon
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| In a rush, in a hurry
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| In a month, don’t worry
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| I’ll be back like Arnold said
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| But don’t hold your breath, it’d be arson for death |