You got a face the Madonna crying tears of gold Been pumping gas at the Texaco, to road on the run Oh baby, yeah on the run Oh
Im not a trick, boy, Im a for you You give me butterflies, skipping one two I know youre boy, I get the flu Im running thinking of your love, boo
Brooklyn move my soul this Kissing my stilettos move your up to my lips on over ghetto baby (He said me what you got girl) on over ghetto baby (Drop it its hot girl)
I know your say that you wanna, but your hearts a no But boy hips say that you're gonna when you hold me, me, youre so fun B-baby you are too fun
My local star, The Willy B. crew Im you boy, you liking me too Im clocking chicks left and just to get to you Youre out there on the grind, now home to your queen, boo.
Brooklyn move my soul this my stilettos, move your mouth up to my lips Come on ghetto baby (He show me what you got girl) Come on ghetto baby (Drop it its hot girl)
Brooklyn move my soul this Kissing my stilettos, your mouth up to my lips Come on over baby (He said show me you got girl) Come on over baby (Drop it its hot girl)
a match made in heaven, if theyre gonna talk let em If they dont think were good together, baby forget em hes bad, hes bad But hes good, no ones better 'Cause were a match made in heaven and kind of loves forever
Brooklyn move my like this Kissing my stilettos, move mouth up to my lips Come on over baby (He said me what you got girl) Come on over baby (Drop it its hot girl)
Brooklyn my soul like this Kissing my stilettos, move your mouth up to my on over ghetto baby (He said show me you got girl) Come on over ghetto (Drop it its hot girl)