You got a face like the Madonna crying 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 me butterflies, heart skipping one two I know sick boy, I get the flu Im temperatures thinking of your love, boo
Brooklyn my soul like this Kissing my stilettos move your up to my lips Come on over baby (He show me what you got girl) Come on ghetto baby (Drop it its hot girl)
I know your lips say you wanna, but your hearts a no But boy your hips say that you're gonna when you me, me, youre so fun B-baby you are too fun
My local rock star, The Willy B. Im feeling you boy, you me too Im clocking chicks left and right to get to you Youre out on the grind, now come home to your queen, boo.
Brooklyn move my soul like Kissing my stilettos, move your up to my lips Come on ghetto baby (He said me what you got girl) Come on ghetto baby (Drop it its hot girl)
move my soul like this Kissing my stilettos, move mouth up to my lips on over ghetto baby (He said show me you got girl) on over ghetto baby (Drop it its hot girl)
Were a match made in heaven, if theyre talk let em If they dont think were good together, baby forget em hes bad, hes bad But when hes good, no ones 'Cause were a made in heaven and this kind of loves forever
move my soul like this Kissing my stilettos, your mouth up to my lips Come on over ghetto (He said show me you got girl) on over ghetto baby (Drop it its hot girl)
move my soul like this Kissing my stilettos, move your up to my lips Come on ghetto baby (He show me what you got girl) on over ghetto baby (Drop it its hot girl)