| Ain’t no cure for this name that you put on me | 
| You’re the only thing that look good on me | 
| On my way to the hopper to make a motion picture | 
| Three hundred foot boat, ocean from villa | 
| Let’s be fruitful and multiply | 
| I’m looking at our future with a vulture’s eye | 
| Can’t describe how it feels when I’m sitting here | 
| You’re the one, we’re the pair | 
| Pushing in your lips, ‘cause my drug is your kiss | 
| I’m pushing in your body, give you the feel that you need | 
| Pushing in back door, on the elevator to the top floor | 
| I’m pushing in, need to rush, the way that I’m in your body, the way your body | 
| touch | 
| I need them not ten wife, and you were downtown, off the block, ought you off | 
| the tax | 
| Long skirts and Channel all the tabs, got them been in a zone in the parking lot | 
| Black diamond earrings, bootine wearing, Felanciago bags have my name in | 
| Incline them a mourning to them lonely nights | 
| Close my eyes, hear your voice through the stereo, like | 
| I’m nothing, but maybe I am, I applaud your existence, I’ve been knowing this | 
| thing | 
| Pink lipstick, etcetera, holy matrimony, forever us | 
| Pushing in your lips, ‘cause my drug is your kiss | 
| I’m pushing in your body, give you the feel that you need | 
| Pushing in back door, on the elevator to the top floor | 
| I’m pushing in, need to rush, the way that I’m in your body, the way your body | 
| touch | 
| You’re the superstar queen | 
| Can’t nobody mess with our thing | 
| Sitting in myself block I saw things | 
| The young boys ain’t what the boys is | 
| You was made for the whole gun | 
| Your skin complexion and your eye color | 
| Your Louis flats and your flat stomach | 
| I might wanna make you my baby mother | 
| ‘cause, baby love, imma seen them all | 
| R&B, actresses, pop, superstars | 
| But none made me wanna give a ring | 
| What’s a man’s world without a queen? |