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on his joystick
Heating up like May weather, dog I'm on that Floyd shit
Boy stick to your day job, said you was hot? Well, they lied
Is that your girl?
on his joystick
Heating up like May weather, dog I'm on that Floyd shit
Boy stick to your day job, said you was hot? Well, they lied
Is that your girl?
Scarlet up like a jukebox for a dreamboat delta queen
Raindroppin' all around
Put up the top you clown
And turn on the Nat King Cole
Off with the rock
tell the DJ, J, J, J, J
Turn the motherfucker up, up, up, up, up
Yeah, mister bartender, tender, tender, tender
Pour me another cup, cup, cup, cup
Get
[Chorus]

[Keyshia Cole]
See, Mary J. I want you to understand you paved the way (for me)
I'm givin' homage (to you)
me to Drake
Could have been J Cole if I met J-Hov

(Who dat? ASAP) But I'm fly like I never left
You's a lie, like fly without the letter F
If hip
I'm Mrs. Nat King Cole
And what a joy it's been
To be asked by Brian McKnight
To remember some of the christmas' with my husband
We were married
-artist: nat king cole
-peak billboard position # 23 in 1955
-words and music by hal hester and barry parker


If I find peace of mind in the sand
I woke up on Fox, found myself starring on Cops
Got chased by squad cars and cameras for two blocks
I hate the man, yeah, I ran
To HBO and stole
and nothin' probably sellin' it
She a dirty dimer

Climb up, slide down
Bend it over, twerk now
Bounce walk, touch ya feet
Split, split, split, split
Now
split your face like a dutch master
No more minks, it's polar bears from Alaska
With shark skin Air Maxes and igloos of ice
Rocks clumped up, like
over piranha, death over dishonor
They killin niggas for J's, that's death over designer
Hey Cole heatin' up like that left-over lasagna
Remember when I
still out on us
Split decision, split in two
By the things that came between us

So unimportant now
All of those fights
Why do we always hurt
smell PUSSY!!!"
My nigga could use some heart like a fucking organ donor.
And conflict? Whenever you plan it, I'm a split it like the equator.
My Sanskrit
only an 8-figure, back me up

I been sent by an angel to snatch you up
Take you way above the clouds and back you up
At night you can lay in my arms feel
The guy at the gas pumps
He's got a lot of soul
He sings Merry Christmas for you
Just like Nat King Cole
And he makes up his own tune
Right on the spot
Wrapping paper everywhere
Stacked up dishes, but who cares
They can wait until tomorrow now
It's you and me, and this old couch

The Christmas
dishonor
They killin' niggas for J's, that's death over designer
Hey Cole heatin' up like that left-over lasagna
Remember when I used to be stressed over
some good niggas.
But dey will never be quite like me, I love da mighty dollar dat excites me.
Yung J-O-see come see me. I got heat see it up
rodney king
We tore up the city nigga, purge
Or just stand there like j. cole and shoot at cops
In the same spot till the case closed, purge

We are dying,
pull up, these Jakes flashed me 5 pictures
One had my man's mug, Semi stepped brother hugs
You asked the wrong guy son
I'm from Melina, yeah we know
it
I wanna tell you 'bout it
Hands up, everybody run
Cole outside and he say he got a gun
Niggas like "man that's what everybody say"
Go and pop
Hammer fly, you can't touch
J's so fly I should work at Flight Club

Put on my J's and dance the whole night away
I’m naughty by nature like I’m
Yea, yea, yea
Grown ups in between, chil'ren and babies
Right about now its yo boy, ya heard, back again D-J Mannie
Fre' fresh err fresh, fre'
I'm Mrs. Nat King Cole
And what a joy it's been
To be asked by Brian McKnight
To remember some of the christmas' with my husband
We were married

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