You got a face like the Madonna crying tears of Been pumping gas at the Texaco, road to on the run Oh baby, youre 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 temperatures of your love, boo
move my soul like this Kissing my stilettos move your up to my lips Come on ghetto baby (He said show me you got girl) Come on over baby (Drop it its hot girl)
I know your 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 you are too much 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 on the grind, now come home to your queen, boo.
Brooklyn my soul like this my stilettos, move your mouth up to my lips Come on over ghetto (He said show me you got girl) Come on ghetto baby (Drop it its hot girl)
move my soul 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)
Were a made in heaven, if theyre gonna talk let em If they dont think good together, baby just forget em hes bad, hes bad But when hes good, no better 'Cause were a made in heaven and this kind of loves forever
Brooklyn my soul like this Kissing my stilettos, move 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)
Brooklyn move my soul this my stilettos, move your mouth up to my lips Come on ghetto baby (He said me what you got girl) Come on over baby (Drop it its hot girl)