| I know it’s partly me, and I’m starting to see
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| This relationship is getting a little hard for me
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| So pardon me, it’s just that part of me
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| But I’m feeling that it’s best if you depart from me
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| Stop calling me, she keeps calling me
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| But it’s partly me, and I’m starting to see
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| This relationship is getting a little hard for me
|
| So pardon me, it’s just that part of me
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| But I’m feeling that it’s best if you depart from me
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| Man she said she’s suicidal, cut an artery
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| Every time she write me letters long as War and Peace
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| And she’s starting to sleep and she swore she’s a freak
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| Cause she couldn’t hold a candle to my Georgia peach
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| We just park in the Jeep, sparkling with glee
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| Remarkably we hop in the sheets
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| Kama Sutra when I start to swoon her
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| Our maneuvers start at Z and end at A
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| It’s hard on me to bend that way
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| How about we get your girlfriends that play
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| I could rock 'em to sleep, not make a peep
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| Drop 'em way deep 'til they start to scream
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| Stay on my team
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| Remember when we layed under the stars and freaked?
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| Baby all them pockets mumbled were just the bomb to me
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| When we used to pick up chicks and it was all for me
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| Ménages got played, so we started to three
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| Then your friends got in our business and they always weak
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| Fear it obviously, I mean arguably
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| If I’m sounding like an ass then I’m sorry to be
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| Hold on listen for a second before you start it with me
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| Girls we used to go together like cars and grease
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| Or starch and a piece, now we hardly speak
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| Baby why you behaving so retardedly
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| You come and blowing up my spot with no regard for me
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| It kind of make me want to do your body harmfully
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| But my mommy raised me up to be a charming G
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| Intlemen, when we’re intimate my heart skips beats
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| Oh yeah, that’s the beauty but the other part’s the beats
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| Quite psychopathic, harlot heartbeat
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| Shrieking banshee, what’s the names you call me?
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| Is that very part of you too scarred to see?
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| Let this bullish cushion your fall from me
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| Man killer it’s over, skriller in the manila folder
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| Still a soldier cop the lift from Villanova
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| She smiled at a wild cat, couldn’t understand
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| I gave her my card in the parked car like she hand it out
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| Relax, run your hand through this mans from Cranston and take a chance
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| I converversated out with a glance
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| How about that long stare, licky lips
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| Does he on that same shit as Barry Bonds and 50 Cent
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| I carry on, I’m an artist getting smart as me
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| She said focus on the business of your artistry |