| I like my girls skinny with brains
|
| I like my hoodies fucked with Lame
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| I like my friends imaginary with no names
|
| And I make music for the fuck of it, no fame
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| Aim, shoot, the gun of love, round
|
| Tried to find ammo but it’s none around town
|
| So I went Down South but I ended up North
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| Uptown sitting on Cloud 9's white porch
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| And of course, my car’s off course
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| You’re so white, my blinkers don’t work
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| I’m trying to let the force be with you, I get you
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| Music is my first, but I contemplate divorce
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| You make a nigga sing songs nice
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| You make a nigga’s night turn day
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| And you make the flowers sing say turn green yellow
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| It sucks that I didn’t get the chance to say hello
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| I want to eat you out like jello
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| And mess with your body like the bass and the cello
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| And tell your mom I said hello, you want to go to prom? |
| (Nigga hell no)
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| Fuck (Shit) and another one, there goes another one
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| Another love song about shit
|
| And I’ll be rich if I get another diss
|
| And maybe Cupid won’t miss
|
| Maybe? |
| (No)
|
| Maybe? |
| (I'm sorry)
|
| Maybe? |
| (I got a date)
|
| Maybe? |
| (Where's your dad?)
|
| I like her L-I-K-E, the only difference is she won’t fuck with me
|
| But she will fuck with that vegetable with the hairs full of X’s and O’s
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| I want to tie her body up and throw her in my basement
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| Keep her there, so nobody can wonder where her face went
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| — Tyler, what you doing?
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| — Shut the fuck up!
|
| — Uh-umm.
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| — You gon' fuckin' love me bitch
|
| — Uhh.
|
| — Or I’mma fuckin' put this gun in your fuckin' head
|
| But all I really want is a kiss on the cheek
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| In private, not public in the streets
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| And your cupcake how we eat and your toes
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| Cause I got a big fetish with the feet
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| I just want somebody I can see
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| You can be a gold digger, you ain’t got to love me
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| I’m serious (I love you) I don’t ask for much
|
| Your heart literally is what I do want for lunch
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| Now this shit is turning to a habit
|
| I’m the burger king, I gotta have it my way
|
| And truthfully girl you really make my day
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| I would probably kill myself if you told me you was gay
|
| And I can’t even look the other way
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| Your aura is a magnet, my eyes a metal bag, it’s attractive
|
| L-O-L laughing, you’re a gold Oscar and I’m just actin'
|
| And I want your cinema hole, and have our kids play supporting role
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| Climbing up the pole, Jack and the Beanstalk, bitch it’s gold
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| And I was in loath, I would never get over you, ever, Sarah
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| Another love song about shit
|
| And I’ll be rich if I get another diss
|
| And maybe Cupid won’t miss
|
| Half your body laying on my chest
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| The rest is in my stomach, that’s including your breast
|
| And I’ma just take another guess
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| Now you probably wishing that you would have said yes
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| Am I crazy? |
| Maybe, but fucked up is how I been lately
|
| Shit, I don’t give a fuck, your family looking for you, wish 'em good luck
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| Bitch, you tried to play me like a dummy
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| Now you stuck up in my mothafuckin' basement all bloody
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| And I’m fucking your dead body, your coochie all cummy
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| Looking in your dead eyes, what the fuck you want from me?
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| What did you want from me? |
| What did you want from me? |