Girl I know you got a man, and you so in love with him But can I get a dance? Maybe a little loving Slim girl if I took you home, I wonder, I wonder Maybe I was wondering I wonder if I took you home Would you still be in love baby? Cause I need you tonight I wonder if I took you home Would you still be in love baby? Cause I need you tonight (Tell your man you'll see him next week, cause we gone)
I say Maserati stance, get it we disappearing I tell her cut off the phones, there's nothing to interfere She follow my every order do anything that I dare I'm giving her everything so all my neighbors can hear it Scream to her making her fiend more We be making a movie they thinking it's Scream 4 Got that from Jeezy and then I put Dean on I'm 7 looking like Heaven, I love when them jeans on We rolling get your chick stolen Stand up paper I can't even fold it Old bread baby, my money be moldy Every time I'm going down it's nothing but roses, yeah I was just on the money, never was on hoes I told shorty play her part like some corn rows And maybe you could get a Neiman Marcus wardrobe I'm talking tearing down the mall when the stores close
Dub A.L.E. you know I'm in the house I'm going on whatever shorty point them bitches out They love me up top, I'm important in the South I could talk them into drinking and then talk them out of a blouse Look, wild youngin, brown drinking and loud loving Living in a moment shawty it's now or never I'm in a 911, this shit is rented though But how I'm whippin' this muthafucka you never know Shout out my brother Meek, O Melly what it do? We trying to find how many bitches could fit in the coupe She addicted to bags, I'm addicted to shoes You could buy em for me, he can buy em for you Word. Wale Folarin Young'un Supreme SB's, I'm a star in this muthafucka Raw in this muthafucka, Vuitton a nigga's duffle John Doe flow: got a car in this muthafucka Woop! Park the Caddy in the living room He ain't talking about no paper we don't listen to him I try to love 'em in the physical not literal After I'm a hit it gotta give a little nigga room! A little space! I gotta breathe We blew enough trees, you gotta leaf! No Days Off, me and Meek Young gunner, Rock Boys, double MG!
Man I like my drinks high, my lights low And I'm stacking paper like trifolds 'Til my momma neighbors them white folks 'Til my account triple O, oh, triple o, oh Man the bank teller thought it was a typo I've got loose girls in tight clothes Man, that dance floor look perfect Only thing it's missing is Michael Twerk that shit, berserk that shit Finally Famous ho, I deserve that shit Put syrup on top, I dessert that shit Then afterwards I'm gone, I desert that shit B.I.G. lil bitch!