| People call me Strokes, a.k.a. you know the Iceman
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| When it comes to sex, you know my motto yes I can, can
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| Never will I front, pass it up or let it walk by
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| And if I don’t get that ass, well at least I did try
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| I know the games p.m.s. |
| must run through you
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| You set it up so no man will ever do you
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| But when you need your weave done, honey read my lips
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| You can beg all you want but you gets jack shit
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| I don’t play, I work hard for my money
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| 5, 6, 7 days a week, shit ain’t funny
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| Now if sex is old fashioned and you’re not selling out
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| If you’re giving it up, you better spit that gum out
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| You wanna what? |
| You must be bugging
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| A minute and a half of having sex, that ain’t loving
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| You couldn’t please me if you had his dick
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| That meaning you heard means you were making me sick
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| So don’t front and lie like you were all that in bed
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| When I rolled your fat ass over you were nervous and scared
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| Mr. love man, you ain’t shit
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| You better get your homies to suck your own dick
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| When it comes to sex you get mo better
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| 'Cause I was on your shit even when you had the jetta
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| It’s '93 now and all that shit done passed
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| So stop frontin' miss 'cause I want that ass
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| What you what you can’t get so step off
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| There’s no room
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| You want a zoom zoom?
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| Not in this poom poom
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| So let me tell you something Mr. Why-you-can't-quit
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| Save what you can do 'cause that’s some bullshit
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| So go and tell your friends, you know, the ones you got gassed
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| To take a cold shower 'cause you get no ass |