| This gonna be one of them shits right here, boy |
| Yeah baby, let’s do it |
| Oh shit, look at miss thing, you done grew into a stallion |
| Girl, and still don’t got no ring? |
| Back then, you was alot younger, now you older |
| Broke my heart, on what you had in the stroller |
| On the low, that could of been me, Huggie down |
| Fly and handsome, talk about little Starksky |
| With little Barkley’s, little car seat |
| Two years later, here comes little Sharneese |
| I’m saying, are you involved, what’s up with you? |
| And where homeboy at? Oh word, ya’ll through? |
| Eff him, you know how I do, when I come through |
| Shut the whole block down like I got something to prove |
| But umm, besides the lane, you look the same |
| Still blowing beauty marks, sitting under your bang |
| Ankle bracelets, that Donna Kay shit |
| I saw one rope for your throat, yo, it cost about 8 chips |
| Hoodrats, they be wearing that fake shit |
| Like her, she wear the same bag, like it ain’t shit |
| Pardon me, excuse my French |
| Just read my lips, girl, everything’s me |
| He’s a goner, hey, you just say the word |
| Baby girl, I’m on that, hey, anything you need |
| Anything you want, want, hey, hey |
| Cuz he don’t know I gotcha |
| Anything you need, I gotcha |
| Ooh, baby girl, I gotcha |
| Yo, look around, everybody sipping on Rosette |
| All in our business, they wanna be nosey |
| He’s with her, gonna be all in the streets, like a Jeep, tomorrow |
| Don’t worry, let’s breeze the bar |
| And in case I ain’t tell you, those jeans is hard |
| And those is the snitches, mean mugging, can’t fight |
| Run into the po-lice, fuck them niggas |
| I pull out, like a tooth, when the back is rotten |
| Finish 'em off, like your menstrual, after you spotting |
| Ghost can’t complain, 5'6″, swinging those hips |
| And my miss got me wanting to sing |
| Walking down the street, watching ladies |
| I got by watching you, watching you |
| I want you, like if I ain’t got nothing to do |
| Somebody better call the cops |
| Cuz if that thing cock back, it’s gon' pop |
| Once me stop moving, it ain’t gon' stop |
| Whatever that girl wants, you know she got shopping |
| Somebody better check the swag |
| We rack up and never check the tags |
| We just stuffed it all in the bag |
| Oh, you mad? Well, too bad |