You got a face like the Madonna tears of gold pumping gas at the Texaco, road to road on the run Oh baby, youre on the run Oh
Im not a trick, boy, Im a for you You me butterflies, heart skipping one two I youre sick boy, I get the flu Im running temperatures thinking of love, boo
Brooklyn my soul like this Kissing my stilettos move your mouth up to my Come on over baby (He said me what you got girl) Come on ghetto baby (Drop it its hot girl)
I know lips say that you wanna, but your hearts a no But boy your hips say that you're when you hold me, Hold me, 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 right to get to you Youre out there on the grind, now come home to queen, boo.
move my soul like this Kissing my stilettos, your mouth up to my lips Come on over baby (He said show me you got girl) Come on over ghetto (Drop it its hot girl)
move my soul like this Kissing my stilettos, move your up to my lips Come on over baby (He said show me you got girl) Come on ghetto baby (Drop it its hot girl)
a match made in heaven, if theyre gonna talk let em If they dont think good together, baby just 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 my soul like this my stilettos, move your mouth up to my lips Come on over baby (He said me what you got girl) Come on over ghetto (Drop it its hot girl)
Brooklyn move my like this Kissing my stilettos, move your mouth up to my Come on over ghetto (He said show me you got girl) on over ghetto baby (Drop it its hot girl)