| The setting quaint, cozy, and cool, a sidewalk café
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| Greenwich Village around the month of May. |
| Alone
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| I sit (Alone I sit), pondering escapade, a drink in my hand
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| Between my lips the Newport I just lit (Newport I just lit)
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| Subtle sophistication, my demeanor relaxed
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| The atmosphere was dim and smoky, a backdraft in the back
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| A little of trouble looked I for. |
| Yes, who would guess
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| Mayhem disguised in tight sequin dress? |
| Slid up
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| My chair a little bit, propped elbows to observe habits
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| Behavior, body language, and drinks sh served. |
| Each move
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| An obvious hint, rotic messages sent. |
| Café, yo
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| Watch your ass out of the storybook, now you’re spent. |
| Eye
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| Contact, smile, a wink, then a nod. |
| I swallow
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| Then, without hesitation, stood focused and proceeded to follow
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| She was covered in sequins—same design of her dress—black silk
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| Fishnet with a caboose, suede, dough, nothing less, leaving
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| Unaware seduction, plain and simple, my intent and her aim
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| Mayhem’s accomplice: a fine, brown frame
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| See on the prowl, slow eye, cute smile
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| The undercover style of a femme fatale (Femme fatale)
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| See on the prowl, cream-scheming all the while
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| She tried to put my charms on trial (On trial)
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| See on the prowl, slow eye, cute smile (Smile)
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| The undercover style of a femme fatale (Of a femme fatale)
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| See on the prowl (Prowl), cream-scheming all the while (Scheming all the while)
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| Doll baby fly, live foul (Live foul)
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| Pursue her I do with a lively step, I note the quietly kept
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| Concerned, I glance the grins of heads I’ve not met yet
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| Peculiar, but I’m not too particular of her guileless style
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| With Vanity-like contours from the profile
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| Romanticism and such routine, the everyday it appeared
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| To be, surrounded by buddha and tight revelry
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| Persistent, I closed the distance quite simple, methodic
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| readily, steadily staring in eyes of mooley erotic
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| Elicit the lust, dismiss, I distrust, but so what?
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| No topics discussed, so Dick and Eagle tell me I must
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| I close for the kill, indomitable will, hard steel
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| The thought of cheap thrill to beat the common sense is to nil
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| Skimpy fashion, look is simply smashing, demure
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| Lure, I’m looking for action, endowed and dashing
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| A sure cure, indo in imagery, dope physical symmetry, no name
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| Mayhem’s accomplice: a fine, brown frame
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| See on the prowl, slow eye, cute smile
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| The undercover style of a femme fatale (Femme fatale)
|
| See on the prowl, cream-scheming all the while
|
| She tried to put my charms on trial (On trial)
|
| See on the prowl, slow eye, cute smile (Cute smile)
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| The undercover style of a femme fatale (Of a femme fatale)
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| See on the prowl, cream-scheming all the while (Scheming all the while)
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| Doll baby fly, live foul (Doll baby fly, live foul)
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| Correct she was, cunning her conniving, carnal the dilemma, yo
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| Collusion, impeccable timing, not a flaw that she ever shows
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| The bourgeois, a cordial invite incandescent and soothing
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| I complement the décor, show condom gear I start removing
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| She go, «Fifty, we could sleep late. |
| My God’ll be your keepsake»
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| I’m a cheapskate
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| She said, «Ain't nothing happening. |
| I heard you’re supposed to be rapping around
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| Fine brown"—bow!—cussing me out in ghetto Latin
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| A fly type flick hip equipped, I wander
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| Fondly my mental beyond her liner and lipstick
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| About to dispatch the snatch when, out of her hat, her cat say, «Gotcha
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| I’m ‘bout to cold rob your ass, kid, bodily clobber, bust, then watch ya»
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| Nevermore the bitch and break south, the gun smoke
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| Mixed with the L done numbed the roof of my mouth
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| A right, left, then across the dancefloor, have her pushing up after
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| I slip, slide, bang, bruise—no time, I’ll deal with it after
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| Full stride, my dick to one side, no pain, yet scars still
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| Remain. |
| Mayhem’s accomplice: that fine, brown
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| Frame
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| See on the prowl, slow eye, cute smile (Smile)
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| The undercover style of a femme fatale (Of a femme fatale)
|
| See on the prowl (Prowl), cream-scheming all the while (Scheming all the while)
|
| Doll baby fly, live foul (Doll baby fly, live foul)
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| See on the prowl (Prowl), slow eye, cute smile (Smile)
|
| The undercover style of a femme fatale (Of a femme fatale)
|
| See on the prowl (Prowl), cream-scheming all the while (Scheming all the while)
|
| See, doll baby fly, live foul (Doll baby fly, live foul)
|
| See on the prowl, slow eye, cute smile
|
| The undercover style of a femme fatale
|
| See on the prowl, cream-scheming all the while
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| See, doll baby fly, live foul |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Femme Fatale, artist - Nick Wiz. Album song Cellar Instrumentals (1992-1998), Vol. 8, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп