| White lines, pretty baby, tattoos,
|
| Don't know what they mean,
|
| They're special, just for you.
|
| White palms, baking powder on the stove,
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| Cookin' up a dream,
|
| Turnin' diamonds into snow.
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| I feel you, pretty baby, feel me,
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| Turn it up hot, lovin' you is free.
|
| I like it down, like it down way low,
|
| But you already know that, you already know.
|
| Come on down to Florida,
|
| I got somethin' for ya.
|
| We could see the kilos,
|
| On the keys, baby, oh yeah.
|
| Guns in the summertime,
|
| Drink a cherry cola lime.
|
| Prison isn't nothin' to me,
|
| If you'll be by my side.
|
| Yayo, yayo, yayo,
|
| And all the dope FIENDS
|
| Yayo, yayo, yayo.
|
| Sun in my mouth and gold hoops,
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| You like your little baby,
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| Like you like your drinks cool.
|
| White lines, pretty daddy gold skin,
|
| You snort it like a champ,
|
| Like the winter we're not in.
|
| Come on down to Florida,
|
| I got somethin' for ya.
|
| We could see the kilos,
|
| On the keys, baby, oh yeah.
|
| Guns in the summertime,
|
| Drink a cherry cola lime.
|
| Prison isn't nothin' to me,
|
| If you'll be by my side.
|
| Yayo, yayo, yayo,
|
| And all the dope FIENDS
|
| Yayo, yayo, yayo.
|
| We could get high in Miami,
|
| Ooh, dance the night away.
|
| People never die in Miami,
|
| Ooh, that's what they all say.
|
| (You believe me, don't you, baby?)
|
| Come on down to Florida,
|
| I got somethin' for ya.
|
| We could see the kilos,
|
| On the keys, baby, oh yeah.
|
| Guns in the summertime,
|
| Chica cherry cola lime.
|
| Prison don't mean nothin' to me,
|
| If you'll be by my side.
|
| Yayo, yayo, yayo,
|
| All the Floridians say,
|
| Yayo, yayo, yayo,
|
| All the Colombians say,
|
| Yayo, yayo, yayo,
|
| And all my girlfriends,
|
| Yayo, yayo, yayo,
|
| That's how I do it like.
|
| Mm, oh, pretty baby,
|
| White lines, pretty baby,
|
| Gold teeth, pretty baby, yeah,
|
| Dance the night away. |