| Ay cameraman, give me an up and over, nigga
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| I’m 'bout to run this bitch
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| Baby we can keep this thing on the low
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| No one gotta know, when a nigga come through
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| See, I just wanna fuck you
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| And you just wanna fuck me — our secret creepin'
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| Know a nigga got a ho
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| And she got a home, that she gotta go to
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| See, I just wanna fuck you
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| And you just wanna fuck me — our secret creepin'
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| These niggas think their bitch ain’t cheatin'
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| She in the club every week deceivin' them
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| Hangin' out with Toneisha and them
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| All in V.I.P. |
| tryin to meet a new G with them
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| Yeah nigga, yo' relationship right
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| But your bitch got a dick on the side
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| You fell in love so she know what you about
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| You don’t get her high, always on time
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| She need a nigga that’s gon' fuck her brains out
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| Send her home, put her pussy in your mouth
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| Niggas get comfortable, fall in love
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| They don’t wanna fuck no mo', they cuddlin' up
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| But see your wife is a slut, she’s just tryin' to nut
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| She wanna get rammed but her man ain’t the one
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| So on the other hand she plan to get done
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| By a nigga who tell a lil' some’n some’n like
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| Don’t get mad at Obie
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| This is, harsh reality your broad’s a freak
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| She wanna get it in wit’cha homie
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| Trust me, behind your back this week
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| Behind her lunch break there’s a meet
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| Behind all that it’s a low-key freak
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| But baby don’t get it twisted, us niggas is dogs
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| It takes five minutes to fuck, back onto y’all
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| Catch him up, naw, but you seen what you saw
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| That nigga say «It wasn’t me»
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| He gets puss like around the clock
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| Wife ain’t watchin' niggas bouncin' on the twat
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| Even Peter boy diggin' it out
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| All on the countertops drillin' the trout
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| Fucked up thing babe it’s your bridesmaid
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| This ain’t J. Springer, this is Obie
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| Nigga had his share of broads involved
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| But when they hit the gan' they just start to bawl
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| They say, «I don’t know why I got your balls in my jaws
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| My man take care of the fam, no flaws»
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| No psychiatric visit bitch can help ya
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| You just like dicks in your throat, helpless
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| Niggas come through, beat up your pelvis
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| Then you run back to whom think you precious
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| At home she like Aunt Jemima
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| All alone she like anacondas
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| Your man want answers, why play me dishonest?
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| Then he seek counsellin' to keep Pocahontas
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| Niggas pokin' holes in there homie, be honest
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| You got a ho fo' sho' for a Madonna
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| Dudes don’t recognize the drama
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| 'Til another nigga get his thighs, got her and tell her |