Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Pillow Talk, artist - Kool G Rap. Album song Riches, Royalty & Respect, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 30.05.2011
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Fat Beats
Song language: English
Pillow Talk |
Man, the chick doin' pillow talk |
Tellin' em' secret shit while he drill her off |
Shorty you foul you need ya chin tapped |
Off with the jewelry, money, pass the keys to Benz back |
Who hat is this? |
Bitch done lost her motherfuckin' marbles |
Bring a nigga home to my nice shit, Barbedienne marble |
Flat screen TV’s in this bitch like at BB’s |
Abbreviation for Best Buy, things about to be Left Eye |
Cat playin' while the dog was out cakin' |
Showin' kids out a state, how to bake without a apron |
Head for the crib unannounced and you actin' startled |
Two drinkin' cups, a Cristal Rosé bottle |
And the fuckin' sheets on the bed look disheveled |
Bitch you got the nerve to act mad cause I won’t hug you |
Baby I back out on you, show you what a thug do |
Leave your ass somewhere in the woods, turn in to bug food |
I’m seein' Ginger from Casino in this whore face |
Every last dollar better be in my floor safe |
I see the lies in your eyes, can’t even talk straight |
I switchblade bubble scar your thighs like a North Face |
Should’ve known better than fuck with a pigeon head |
Should a just came for the brain like Return Of The Living Dead |
Should grab the gun with the biggest lead |
And give it to her, put two through her |
Ruger in her soup cooler |
Instead I’ll remove the jewels from the Jewish jewelers |
It’s back to the sewer, you ain’t worth a prison bed |
Coattail rider how long you thought the journey last? |
Turned the girl to a lady, high heels and a Hermès bag |
Bothers the soul that the cunt would call her attorney, mad |
You ain’t know nothing bout' upper scale livin' |
Til' a nigga snatched you up, gave you Dutches and well vision |
Custom tailor stitching, the butler, maid, kitchen drippin' |
?? |
rocked up with scales sniffin' |
Both wrists all icy like fuckin' hail hit em |
You know ya' played yourself I see it in your sad eyes |
Games over baby, say goodnight to the bad guy |